


Pouvoir des Farine

by Yilena



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Fairy Tale Retellings, Fantasy, Hades and Persephone, Minor Character Death, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Romance, Seer, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-10
Updated: 2020-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:54:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 31,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23096659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yilena/pseuds/Yilena
Summary: For someone that could see people's futures, Marinette was constantly surprised by her own. When a man bursts into her store, wide-eyed and asking to hide, saying yes leads to a tentative friendship that blossoms into more. AU.(marinette's oblivious that she's dating adrien until he meets her best friend.)
Relationships: Adrien Agreste/Marinette Dupain-Cheng
Comments: 27
Kudos: 344





	Pouvoir des Farine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bee_emey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bee_emey/gifts).



> For _miraculous-monogatari_. I hope you enjoy this! The prompt was for a loose Hades and Persephone plot, but it's so loose that it definitely doesn't even count any more. Lila was originally going to play a larger part, but she got demoted because she made me uncomfortable. The "supernatural" element to this isn't the main focus, as Marinette's already come to turn with her powers, so this is entirely focusing on their relationship.

_Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug & Chat Noir © Thomas Astruc_

The bell chimed as the door closed.

Marinette took a long sip of her drink—warm from where it had been sitting there for a while—and turned to watch her retreating customer cross the street, an angry strut obvious and very clear with their every movement.

They hadn't even wanted their gift bag.

Sometimes, Marinette wondered whether she was a little bit mad for willing dealing with such encounters.

The quiet music playing through the store was her only company for a while. Marinette lounged on the sofa, comfortable and feeling at home as she had her feet tucked into slippers, tapping away at her laptop, positioned so she'd only have to turn her head to gaze at the door.

The bell was the best thing she'd installed.

It was old-fashioned, sure, but it helped when she was tucked away in the small kitchen she'd had installed in the other room, making herself lunch.

For as important as it was to be professional, she preferred comfort over being blunt and clinical.

It was her charm, after all.

Almost an hour later, the sound of the bell went off.

She padded back into the main room, smoothing out her hair as she pushed the door open with her hip.

“Hi, welcome,” she called out, letting the door close behind her as she came in clutching another mug in one hand. It was shaped like an animal; creative and colourful. “How can I help you today?”

It wasn't a regular.

“Hi?” he replied, wide-eyed.

On instinct, her eyes flickered up above his head for a moment before she looked into his eyes, offering a polite smile as she walked further into the room. But rather than offering a hand out to him, she perched on one of the comfortable armchairs, placing one thigh on top of the other.

She patiently waited for him to talk.

“I'm—this is a bit weird, but can I hide in here for a bit?” he blurted out, running a nervous hand through his blond hair.

There wasn't much to consider.

“Yeah, sure,” Marinette agreed, gesturing to the door she'd just come through with her hand.

“I—I can go in there?” he asked, sounding terribly confused. “Really?”

She shrugged. “Why not?”

And as he took a step forward where she'd gestured, checking over his shoulder to look through the large window at the front of the store, he questioned, “Are you sure?”

She offered him a small smile, “Knock yourself out.”

With the doorknob in hand, he asked, “You're not coming?”

“In a bit,” she replied. “I just got comfortable.”

“I—okay,” he slowly said, gazing back at her before he went through, the lost and confused expression still very present on his face before the door closed behind him.

She took another sip of her drink.

It was warm that time.

There wasn't much telling how busy it was that afternoon; it was a weekday, and her shop wasn't located in a terribly unpopular place, so she was lost on whether the strangers walking by would be looking for the strange man that had found himself in her kitchen.

There was a door back there that led out to the alley, but she had the keys on her. Although he could've maybe nabbed a few of her belongings, she doubted he was the type to do that.

Besides, if he tried anything, she was fine with throwing her mug at him.

She got out her phone after a while, checking her notifications and sending a few texts to friends. Checking the latest video she'd posted proved that there were hundreds of comments over night, but she couldn't reply to them all.

It was exhausting trying to keep up-to-date.

When her drink was half empty, she wandered into the kitchen. The lights were still left on, and the man was sitting at the small table she had in there, elbows up and his head resting in his hands, staring glumly at the wall.

Her slippers made noise as she walked. “So, you here for long?”

He jumped. “I—what?”

“You're welcome to stay,” Marinette said, swirling the contents of her mug around as she leaned against the counter. “But I do close in, like, an hour, and I'd really like to get home.”

His ears were pink. “Sorry.”

“It's fine,” she told him, waving a hand dismissively. “Believe me, I've had weirder stuff happen. Can I know your name, at least?”

“Adrien,” he confessed, standing up too quickly and hitting his knee against the table. And as he hissed, trying to get his footing so he wouldn't fall over, he looked even more flustered than when he'd first ran into her store. “I'm—I'm Adrien. Thank you for letting me in here, really.”

“Any time,” she said.

He blinked. “Why?”

“I like helping people,” Marinette said, hiding her smile by draining the rest of her drink. “Kind of my business, right? Sorry, that's an awful joke, I know.”

Adrien was tall, that was what she was able to tell when he was standing upright in front of her. He awkwardly placed his hands into the pocket of his trousers, trying to show her a smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. “Business?”

“Didn't read the sign before you barged in here?” She made a noise of disapproval. “It's a fortune-telling place, my dude.”

He sounded shocked at that. “ _Really_?”

“Yeah!” she confirmed with a laugh. “What? Not gaudy enough to pass for the stereotype?”

“I guess,” he mumbled, reaching up and clasping the back of his neck with a hand. “I just—I've never actually seen one, you know? Only the weird ones I've seen on television, but I'm pretty sure they're all frauds.”

She grinned. “Everyone's a fraud.”

“Even you?” he asked.

“Oh, yes,” Marinette replied with a wink. “But I've got to make a living somehow, right? People lap it up if you're a good judge of character—and so, I'm here.”

Adrien laughed at that, a nervous little noise that escaped him that didn't quite sound like it was fully-fledged, and he rocked on his heels as he said, “Sorry for coming in here, I really am.”

“Again, I'm telling you it's fine,” she assured him, reaching up and tucking some stray hairs behind her ear. “It gave me some entertainment, you know? Besides, it's not like anyone else came in.”

“I'm serious,” Adrien insisted, clearing his throat for a moment. “What you did—I was just panicking, okay? But you really helped me out. I can't thank you enough for that.”

She opened her mouth to reply—

But he beat her to it. “Is there anything I can do in return? To thank you?”

She smiled. “No, it's fine.”

“I could pay? For a—for a session?” he proposed. “Is that what you call it here?”

With a tap to her chin, she mused, “Makes me kind of sound like a prostitute, doesn't it?”

“Not my intention!” he exclaimed, shaking his head. “Please, is there _anything_? You really... you really helped me out there.”

“Adrien,” Marinette called out, newfound fondness in her tone. “It's fine. You don't have to give me anything.”

It took close to ten minutes to convince him of that, and it was her pointing out the time that finally caused their conversation to come to a stop.

When she said it was entertainment for her, it hadn't been a lie. Adrien's mannerisms and genuine kindness—along with the constant gratitude—made it so talking to him wasn't dull and boring, and the real smile he gave her on his way out made her feel proud that she'd been able to help him out.

“Hey,” Marinette called, sticking her head out of the door.

Adrien turned around, curious.

“Have fun on your train tomorrow!”

He looked utterly bewildered at that.

Marinette waved with a grin.

-x-

Luka wasn't pleased with her.

“I embarrassed myself,” he muttered, close to stumbling over and as he took off his soaked boots, droplets of rain splattering onto their floorboards. “You could've told me, you know. It would've been _nice_ to at least know I'd make an absolute fool of myself.”

Through her mouthful of food, she asked, “What are you crying about now?”

“Don't play innocent!” he exclaimed, pointing a pale finger in her direction. “You know _exactly_ what I'm talking about, you—you monster.”

She swallowed, humming afterwards. “Tripped and spilled coffee all over your new boss, right?”

“Yes,” he grumbled, shrugged off his coat and placing it on the bannister to dry. “You normally warn me if something like that happens.”

“Eh, not always.”

“Worst friend,” Luka said, shaking his head and causing water to fly out, almost hitting her. “You're dead to me now.”

Marinette nodded along to that, accepting the proclamation. “Okay, I'll eat the rest of dinner.”

“Good,” he said. “Get fat.”

“That's a good plan for the winter,” she agreed, wandering back into the kitchen, sitting down on a stool and continuing to eat her food.

Luka trailed a few minutes later, in new clothes and a towel around his neck.

Still chewing, she pointed towards the leftovers she'd placed in the oven.

He didn't even thank her.

“Ungrateful,” she said.

Luka looked her in the eyes as he ate his first spoonful.

It was too hot, meaning his eyes watered and he looked utterly stupid trying not to burn his mouth, too stubborn to spit it out.

She grinned.

He scowled at her before getting a glass of water.

The anger he had towards her wasn't genuine. When it was, his face would turn an unflattering shade of red—not at all like when he blushed—and he clammed up, stuttering and struggled to find the right words for say.

It was close to her reaction—except she tended to feel her eyes feel with tears, even when she was furious.

The downside of getting someone to take her seriously when she was upset was that she was usually bawling.

“Maybe I should call in sick,” Luka muttered with a frown, stirring his food around instead of eating it. “What do you think?”

She snorted. “Don't be a pussy.”

He shot her a disapproving look. “That's not helpful at all.”

“Go in,” Marinette said, reaching out and kicking him lightly. “I'll buy you something tomorrow. What do you say?”

After a moment's hesitation, he mused, “A good bribe.”

Marinette asked, “Anything in particular you want?”

“There's that new bakery near you,” Luka started, reaching up and brushing his dark-coloured hair out of his eyes. “That opened up the other week, yeah? I've been wanting to go in there, but it's always closed after I finish work.”

She pretended to shoot him with her finger. “Sure.”

He grinned. “You're the best.”

“I know,” Marinette replied smugly.

The best part of owning her own business meant that she was in control of everything. Marinette liked to be organised, to make sure that everything was to her liking, and it was rare for people to surprise her.

“I'll see you tomorrow at two, then,” she said through the phone, confirming an appointment.

It was soon scribbled down on her chalkboard that was on the wall for look more than practically. It was cute, the wood around the edges matching the rest of the room, and she'd stuck with a specific theme for the whole shop.

She was very proud of it.

As she finished making her drink, placing the saucepan into the dishwasher she'd splurged on, her first customer arrived five minutes early.

She greeted them with a smile.

Their exit wasn't dramatic; it was filled with tears, yes, but they were happy and kept shaking Marinette's hand, thanking her for everything.

“It's no problem,” she assured them, standing up and gently ushering them over the counter. “I hope everything works out for you. You're destined for great things, remember?”

The watery smile she was given in return was nice to see.

Marinette gave them a business card on the way out, stapled and attached to a small bag of cookies that were baked at the weekend.

It was a personal touch that her mother had suggested she do.

There was also the fact that it helped to bring customers back—her place wasn't cold, wasn't straight-to-the-point and emotionless, and she was very proud of that.

It was a exhausting sometimes, especially when she had two back-to-back customers that cried their eyes out, but it was forgotten within a few hours.

At lunch, she flipped her sign to say that she would be back soon, locking the door and wandering down the street in the right direction. She'd left her slippers inside, visible if someone peered through the glass panel, and she always left the little fairy lights on during the day to liven up the place.

The store was more decorated than her apartment, but that was because Luka was stubborn and never agreed with her choices.

It wasn't her fault, of course.

The new bakery was small, but it was quaint. One of the walls was still brick, the rest painted in bright colours, and the furniture was all wooden and had character. And when she stepped inside, the smell was wonderful.

She fished her wallet out of her bag.

There wasn't anyone at the counter, most of the tables were filled with customers, and it was quite loud due to the small space, but it wasn't completely off-putting.

Marinette browsed the displays, trying to decide what to buy.

“Welcome!” came a greeting barely a minute later. “How can I help you today?”

And when she looked up, she was greeted by a familiar face.

There wasn't a nametag on the uniform—if it could even be classed that—but Marinette could vaguely recall his name, so she hesitantly asked, “Adrien, right?”

He looked surprised at that. “You remembered.”

“Well, it was only last week,” she pointed out with a smile. “Is this you in your natural habitat, then?”

“I wouldn't quite say that,” he replied, rocking on his heels behind the counter, one hand tapping the screen of the register. “What can I do for you?”

She made a thoughtful noise. “Any recommendations? Doesn't matter the price.”

“Well, what do you like?” he enquired.

He had flour on his shirt.

With a grin, she stated, “Probably everything here.”

“I haven't seen you here before,” he answered. “Are you sure about that?”

She raised her eyebrows. “Are you the only employee?”

“No, no,” Adrien replied, honest. “The others are in the back right now. No point standing around in plain view, right?”

“Smart,” she agreed. “But, no. I haven't been here before, but my friend really wants to come in here, but he finishes work too late.”

Adrien made a sympathetic noise. “That sucks.”

“How about you pick out your favourites and I'll buy 'em?” Marinette suggested. “Unless that's too much hassle. I don't want to be a bother.”

“No, no, it's fine,” he told her. “Any allergies or anything I need to know of?”

She shook her head. “No.”

And as he packed away a few specific cakes or pastries, the two of them coming to the decision of buying four in total, he put them into a pretty-looking cardboard box with the store's logo on it. It was a clear sign that the store had the money to splurge on such things, including his own half-apron that she was able to see as he walked around the counter, the store's logo also embroidered on the corner of it.

It was the personal touches that added to the store, her mother always said.

He passed her the box carefully. “Here you go.”

Confused, she pointed out, “I haven't paid yet—”

“It's fine,” Adrien insisted, pushing it into her chest so she'd have to take it, taking his hands back and darting behind the counter again. “It's repayment for your help before. That makes it fair between us, right?”

She struggled with the box for a moment before holding it tucked under one arm. “You don't have to—”

“I want to,” he assured her.

“I feel like the situation is reversed,” she remarked.

He laughed. “Take your spoils and leave, Marinette.”

She blinked. “I never told you my name.”

“I looked you up,” he admitted, reaching up and running a hand through his blond-coloured hair. “I just—I wanted to know who you were, I guess? Especially after my train broke down for, like, an hour with me on it.”

She made a disapproving noise. “I told you not to take it.”

And when he smiled, it showed dimples on his cheeks. “Excuse me for not taking advice from psychics.”

“Psychic,” she repeated, pulling a face.

“What would you rather be called?” he asked.

With a grin, she replied, “Smart.”

Adrien laughed loudly at that.

Some of the customers looked their way, and as his ears turned pink and he shuffled on the spot, trying to look busy, Marinette took that as her sign to leave.

“Bye, Adrien,” she said. “Thanks for the treats.”

He called out his reply as she opened the door. “Enjoy!”

-x-

She downed the shot, placing it back down on the bar with a little more force than necessary, grimacing.

Beside her, Lila cackled.

“Shut up,” Marinette muttered, throat burning from the liquid.

“Baby,” Lila accused, reaching out and pushing Marinette's hair from her forehead, smoothing it all out and trying to make her look more presentable. “You're still bad at this, aren't you?”

She batted Lila's hands away from her. “Stop babying me.”

“Stop needing to be babied, then,” was Lila's counter to that. Then, it was followed up by Lila drinking her own shot, not at all complaining about the taste. “See? That's how you do it.”

Marinette raised her middle finger.

Lila's smile showed her teeth.

When she'd first moved to the area—to an apartment to share with her best friend—Marinette had been utterly surprised that there would be someone else that successfully shared her profession. It wasn't an honest living according to most people, and while Marinette was doing fine financially, that was due to posting videos online and being booked for upper-class parties that overpaid her to appear for their event.

She had no complaints about that.

Lila, however, was happy to live off of her parents, opening her store whenever she felt like it.

“Disgusting,” Marinette accused, already reaching for another shot.

It went down as well as the last one.

Lila leaned in and rubbed her back. “There, there. You'll get it someday.”

“My friends aren't big drinkers, okay,” she defended herself. “This is only, like, my third time being in a club, and they've all been with _you_.”

With a wide grin, Lila brushed her hair behind her shoulder. “I'm a great influence.”

“Yeah, no.”

“I am,” Lila insisted. “So much so, I'm going to tell you something life-changing.”

“I really don't want to hear your shit—”

Making a noise to indicate for her to be quiet, Lila went as far to reach out and place her finger over Marinette's lips. And as Marinette looked at her with a frown, Lila went to on say, “If you come dance with me, you'll meet someone that'll change your whole evening.”

“I thought it was life-changing,” Marinette muttered.

Lila waved a hand dismissively. “Life is day-by-day, right?”

“That's not how this works,” she stated.

“Come, come,” Lila insisted, dragging Marinette along by her wrist, pulling her straight into the swarm of people supposedly dancing to the loud music. It meant that Lila had to shout to say, “I'll teach you! I've won awards for free-styling before.”

Marinette snorted. “No, you haven't.”

“The rewards weren't official.” And that was followed up by a wink that was probably supposed to look sultry. “Dance with me, Mari.”

It was terribly awkward.

The amount of dancing Marinette had done was minimal, and when it was combined with the alcohol in her body, the warm feeling in her chest, and slight dizziness when she moved her head too fast, it meant that she probably was clumsily as she felt.

Lila tried to guide her, but there wasn't much technique going on.

It was a lot of grinding, stuff that hadn't been present at her school dances.

Then again, that had been close to a decade ago. The amount of exposure she had to nightlife in the city was abysmal, mostly due to preferring to be at home, not out and drunkenly stumbling location-to-location.

The experience wasn't terribly awful, though.

Lila dragged her to the bar again.

“I thought I was supposed to meet someone,” Marinette loudly said. “But I only saw your breasts in my face.”

Lila's lipstick was a little smeared. “Who says it wasn't me?”

She wasn't even surprised at that. “Your ego is outrageous.”

“I've made you more adventurous, don't deny it,” Lila retorted, holding a hand up and flashing the bartender a flirty look. “You'd just be at home in pyjamas otherwise, wouldn't you?”

She muttered, “I wish I was right now.”

“Just you wait,” Lila told her. “Soon, you'll be thanking me for everything.”

“You're so full of shit,” Marinette accused, some fondness in her voice. It had taken a while for it to develop, but there was something charming about Lila's constant attitude. “You could always say that you don't have anyone else to come out with, you know.”

Lila rolled her eyes. “Is it really that when I'd prefer to be teaching you?”

“And what are you teaching me?” Marinette asked, smoothing her hair down and making sure that her braid still looked acceptable.

There was no hesitation. “How to be hot.”

She almost choked on her laughter. “Right.”

“Someone's checking you out right now,” Lila pointed out, accepting the drinks from the bartender and leaning forward more than necessary to pass the money over, making her cleavage visible in the process. “Don't say I never do anything for you.”

“You annoy me,” Marinette muttered.

Then, against her better instincts, she really did glance over her shoulder to see whether anyone was looking at her.

She couldn't spot anyone.

Which wasn't surprising due to the terrible lighting in the nightclub; the brightest places were the hallways and the bar, where people actually needed to see.

“Trying to look for your admirer?” Lila teased, passing her a brightly-coloured drink. And as Marinette turned her head to glare at her, Lila added on, “Because I hate to tell you this, but he's coming over here.”

Dubious, all she said in response was, “Right.”

“I'm the best matchmaker,” Lila proclaimed. “I'll be your wingman and get you laid.”

Marinette flatly replied, “I sincerely doubt that.”

“One couple even got married last year,” Lila said, reaching up and pretending to wipe a tear away. “They thanked me in their speech. It was really sweet.”

“That's nice.”

“It was,” Lila agreed, smiling widely. Then, she patted Marinette on the shoulder before sauntering off, but not before waving at her with far more finger movement than was needed.

And as Marinette took a sip of her drink, suspiciously watching as her friend wandered over to the middle of the room, going back to dancing without looking back at her any more.

Marinette was fine waiting until she was done.

However, being alone didn't last for long. There was someone standing beside her in a matter of moments, an awkward posture with hands in their pockets, and Marinette had to look up to see their face—

“Adrien?” she questioned, surprised.

“Hey,” he started, lifting one hand up to wave at her. It wasn't the smoothest of greetings, and he seemed to be a tad embarrassed by what he'd just done. “I never thought I'd see you here, but hi.”

She saluted at him. “Hey, you.”

“I'd ask if I can buy you a drink, but I see you already have one,” he remarked.

Against her better judgement, she looked him in the eyes before knocking back the rest of the drink, proud that she didn't spill any of it in the process. And as she wiped at her mouth with a grin, Adrien's bewildered expression was definitely a highlight of the evening.

“Okay,” he said slowly. “That answers that. What would you like?”

He bought her a drink without batting an eyelash at the price.

Marinette held it carefully, gesturing out in the hallway near where the bathrooms were for a place to talk. It was bound to still be loud, but perhaps a little less than in the bulk of the club.

Without a second thought, he agreed.

“You here with friends?” she asked as they walked through the doors.

“Yeah, but they're busy grinding on each other right now,” Adrien replied, shaking his head at that. “I didn't exactly want to get in the middle of that. Their idea of trying to make me _not_ feel left out is even worse than being forgotten.”

She teased, “Don't want some action with them?”

“No, thanks.” He pretended to shudder. “What about you? I saw your friend slink away.”

Marinette took a sip of her drink. It tasted a lot better than the one she'd downed some minutes ago. “She's off being a hoe, it's fine.”

He almost choked on his laugh. “Rude.”

“Eh, truth.” Her own laughter lasted longer than normal, the alcohol spurring her on. “You don't seem very buzzed.”

“I just got here,” he countered. “But you seem—happy.”

She beamed. “I do?”

“Well, you always do,” Adrien said, reaching up and running a hand through his already messy hair. It seemed to make it worse; causing gaps in his fringe, some flicking out at the side, not the neat-looking picture she'd seen in the bakery. “Then again, I've only seen you three times.”

With a snap of her fingers, she exclaimed, “Third time's the charm, dude.”

“Right.” He didn't sound convinced.

“Drink up,” she said, gesturing towards his glass. “You've got to make up for lost time, yeah? And I don't think I'll be happy grinding against you out there unless you have one more, _at least_.”

He opened his mouth to reply, but an answer didn't come out at first. “I—what?”

She found that hilarious, laughter coming out loudly. “Dancing.”

“Dancing,” he repeated, voice a bit high-pitched. “Yes, dancing.”

And with that, he knocked back the rest of his drink.

Marinette clapped and cheered, almost spilling hers in the process.

When they went to the bar, he offered to get her another one whenever she finished hers—not trying to get her to drink it right that instant. And instead of going for something bigger, he went for two shots instead, drinking them with as much finesse as she'd had earlier.

And when she told him that, she wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling him into a one-armed hug.

“Really?” he replied, laughing.

She had to stand on her toes to rest her head on his shoulders. “I'm so proud of you.”

The heels helped, even if they were low.

And with the next song coming on, one that they both recognised, it was Marinette dragging him along to dance with a hand around his wrist. Adrien wasn't resisting; rather, he seemed quite entertained by her proposal, going along with it easily, and they were both fumbling and awkward with each other out there.

It was nice to have someone matching her.

And it was _fun_.

The one time she'd come with Lila before, they'd bumped into Lila's other friends; ones that Marinette had felt entirely out of place with, and struggled to socialise with until she'd had some more to drink.

It wasn't an experience she looked back on fondly.

Adrien laughed along with her, not seeming to even care that they were probably being embarrassing, and it was looser than when she'd been with Lila—then again, that could've been because she'd had more alcohol at that point.

Her hair was damp and sticking to her face, her skirt was riding up, and she was sure her hair looked a mess, but her cheeks were hurting from smiling too much and she didn't regret it in the slightest.

Adrien bought her another drink.

And when Lila came to join them—

Adrien was still paying attention to her, barely acknowledging her friend. It was too loud to really talk, plus she doubted that Lila even cared about introducing herself when she'd walked away an hour or so ago.

That made it even better.

She barely remembered meeting his friends.

All she knew was that it was a boy and a girl—clearly a couple—and that they were very interested in each other, often getting distracted.

When the night ended, she stumbled into her apartment alone with sore feet.

She was sure she woke Luka up.

-x-

The next time she saw Adrien, it was during the week.

There was a short period of time before her next appointment, enough to warrant her sitting down on a comfortable chair, fiddling with her phone as she played a game. The soft sound of the music filling the store was a playlist that she updated the previous night, and she had her favourite pair of socks on along with her slippers.

She felt like the description of comfortable.

So, when the bill chimed above the door, she lazily looked up and got ready to greet whoever it was. Sometimes, customers were nervous and wanted to come to their appointments early, just to make sure they were there on time, while other times it was curious strangers, peering inside to see whether she'd be worth their time.

It was a pleasant surprise to see Adrien standing there, holding a familiar-looking box against his chest where flour stood out against his t-shirt.

“Hi,” she said, caught off-guard.

“Hey,” he started, flashing her a smile that showed his dimples. “I'm not intruding, am I?”

She blinked. “No, I've got—a good forty minutes until my next appointment.”

“Excellent,” Adrien replied, wiping his shoes on the rug before stepping further inside, happily placing the box on the coffee table in front of her. “I would've been here earlier in the week, but I got caught up.”

For as good as she liked to think she was with words, all that came out was, “Okay?”

“I wanted to thank you,” he started, smoothing out his shirt. “For at the club? If it wasn't for you, I would've had a shit time. So, this is kind of me buying your friendship.”

Her gaze flickered from the box to him. “You already bought my drinks.”

“Was that enough to keep you around?” Adrien asked.

“Sure.” She shrugged. “I'm not exactly picky.”

“Then, consider this a bribe for your phone number,” he proposed without hesitation. Then, seeming to catch himself, he shuffled on the spot a bit before saying, “I just—I had a good time. If you ever want to repeat that, I'd be more than up for it.”

She snorted. “Sure, but that'll probably just be the next time Lila drags me out.”

“Lila?” he asked.

“The friend I was with.”

His expression was blank.

“She had brown hair?” Marinette clarified. Then, holding up a hand, she continued on to say, “Like, this high? She also tried it on with your friend, but he wasn't interested.”

He clicked his fingers. “Oh, her! Yes, I vaguely remember that.”

With a grin, she confirmed, “Yeah, good.”

“I don't really know much about you,” he blurted.

Marinette pointed out, “I could say the same to you.”

“Would you—would you like to?” he stuttered out.

“Know you?” she questioned, to better understand what he meant. At the slightest nod of his head, she said, “Well, yeah? I'm guessing you're local, yeah?”

Adrien replied, “Yeah. I moved here pretty recently to open up the bakery.”

She was sure her surprise was clear in her voice. “It's yours?”

“Yeah.” He sounded a bit bashful. “It's still early days, but it's all mine.”

“I thought you were just an employee,” Marinette remarked. “Sorry for underestimating you.”

He laughed. “It's fine, I get it.”

“How old are you?” she asked, curious.

“Twenty-six,” he stated. “Twenty-seven next month, though.”

“Same!” Marinette excitedly told him. “To the first bit, I mean. Not the second—sorry, we're not twins.”

He made a disappointed noise. “You got my hopes up there.”

“Sorry to break it to you, but you're too white to be my brother,” she jokingly told him.

It was a good sign when he laughed along.

“Are you sure you should be giving out freebies?” Marinette asked, gesturing towards the box on the table. “It's early days, right? It might bite you in the ass if I don't pay.”

Adrien shook his head. “No, it's fine. For real. This little thing isn't going to hurt me, but thank you for caring.”

Touched, she let out a soft, “Well—thank you.”

He beamed. “My pleasure.”

And with him looking at her with such a smile—one that reached his green-coloured eyes, and looked utterly sincere—she felt her face heating up a bit.

Marinette got to her feet, slippers making noise as she approached her counter, reaching behind for one of the personalised bags that she gave out to her customers.

“I know it probably won't match up,” she started to say as she straightened back out, turning around to face him.

Adrien's eyes snapped back up to look at her, a bit flustered.

Her grin widened at that. “Here, I'll give you this in exchange.”

He accepted the bag without complaint, inspecting the stamp that she'd personally put on each, along with the small biscuits that were in clear view. And with a smile, he quietly said, “Cute.”

“Thanks,” Marinette replied, pleased with his response. “I made them at the weekend, so I wouldn't recommend leaving them for too long.”

“Sure it's okay for me to have these?” he asked, looking at her earnestly. “I'm not exactly a customer—”

“All my friends take some,” Marinette told him. “When they come in, I mean. Luka eats the broken or burnt ones at home, so he's not welcome here.”

He cleared his throat. “Luka?”

She smiled. “My room-mate.”

“Right,” he said, ever-so-quietly. “I—yeah. I should—I should get going before your next customer gets here, right?”

Her eyes darted to the clock on the wall. “I guess, yeah.”

“Thank you,” Adrien repeated, carefully holding the bag so he wouldn't crush her creations. “For the weekend and for—for this. It means a lot.”

She softly replied, “You're welcome here, if you want to come again.”

“Thanks,” he said again. “Marinette, you—thank you.”

That seemed to be the majority of their conversations; assuring each other it was fine, and that it wasn't any trouble, no matter what it was about.

Marinette wasn't annoyed by it.

She forgot to get his phone number.

And while she knew where he worked, she didn't want to go in there just to talk to him. She didn't have a lot of free time—where she could leave the store without a worry for a few hours—so if she didn't see him before the next week, she had the decision to have her lunch break over at his store for the chance to see him.

It didn't feel unnatural to want to see more of him.

They'd had a fun time when they were out together—regardless of how Lila gloated about it afterwards, causing Marinette to hang up on her—but she didn't want to presume too much.

Her mood lessened when the next customer made into her store.

When Marinette's eyes flickered above their head, what she was greeted with wasn't good.

But the customer left with a smile on their face, the bag of cookies clutched in their hands, and profusely thanked her for her time.

Marinette's stomach felt a little heavy at that.

Although they'd scheduled another appointment in two weeks, she didn't add it to her calender.

There was no reason to.

-x-

Luka was gazing at her with a frown.

Marinette groggily looked up from the breakfast that had just been pushed over to her on the counter. “Yes?”

“Are you sure you'll be okay?” he asked.

Instead of answering that, she put too much food into her mouth, making a show of chewing slowly while staring up at him.

With a sigh, he ran a hand through his hair, pushing it off his forehead.

“You plucked your eyebrows,” she managed to say through her food.

He pulled a face at that. “That's all you've got to say?”

She gave him a thumbs up, showing approval.

He sat down on the stool beside her, propping an elbow on the counter and staring at her with a frown. The concern was clearly there—as it always was before he disappeared for a few days for his work—and she was always touched that he cared so much about that.

But they were both terribly awkward with expressing their feelings directly.

“I'll text you,” Marinette offered before stuffing her face with food some more.

“Of course you will,” he agreed, as though that was a given.

Considering they'd grown up with her messaging him almost daily since she'd gotten her first phone, it was routine by then.

“I'll be fine,” she assured him. “I promise not to go out with Lila and vomit on the floor. I'll be a good girl.”

He was still frowning.

“For real,” she insisted. “I'll be, like, the _best_.”

His response sounded patronising. “I'm sure you will.”

She pointed her cutlery at him threateningly. “You want to fight, is that it?”

“No,” Luka denied, standing up and reaching out to mess up her hair. “I'll see you soon, yeah? If you stain anything, I'll kick you when I'm back.”

She didn't slap his hand away. “Big talk for someone who doesn't even like to swear.”

His smile showed his teeth. “Self-restraint means I'm stronger than you.”

“Yeah, no.”

And when he left, she turned music on on her phone to fill the silence.

It was comforting.

She showered and let her hair dry naturally while scrolling through her phone, editing her playlist for the day. With the decision to make it extra peppy—especially as sad music would only hinder her business if she really had to try and tell someone bad news—she tossed out the moderately depressing ones, though that didn't mean she went for the ones with lots of bass that Luka liked to listen to.

There wasn't a situation where she thought a customer would appreciate that choice.

For good measure, she sent Luka a single emoji before she went to work.

Other than the music, the most enthusiastic thing to happen to her that day was someone running into her store.

Adrien was breathing heavily as he stumbled in and asked, “Hi, Marinette! Please, please, please tell I can hide here again.”

Bewildered, she pointed to the door to the kitchen.

As before, she couldn't tell who—or why—he was hiding in her store, but she didn't mind it. She stayed outside for a little bit, listening to the music through the speakers, still sat on her comfortable chair as she gazed out into the street.

It was impossible to tell why he'd ducked inside.

Was it considered rude to ask?

She made the decision to follow him after the current song ended.

Adrien was sat at the table, as he'd been last time, staring at the wall.

“Is there something interesting about the paint?” Marinette questioned, announcing her presence when he hadn't turned at the sound of the door. “Because I'm starting to wonder if you're seeing something I don't. Beside from you, no one's paid it that much attention before.”

His smile was a bit sheepish. “I was just thinking.”

“About how you're going to explain this away a second time?” she asked, though there was amusement in her voice. “You don't have to, if it's too hard. I'm cool with you just crashing in here—well, as long as I don't have an appointment.”

To that, he queried, “How will I know?”

“Look through the big window,” Marinette replied, gesturing behind her, even though there was a door in the way. “If someone's in here, it might be a bit awkward for you to barge in.”

Adrien clumsily got to his feet, almost tripping over the leg of the table. “I'll try not to make a habit out of this.”

Instead of addressing that, she asked, “Shouldn't you be at work?”

“Eh,” was his non-committal answer. “They're fine without me.”

“You're the... owner, aren't you?” Marinette questioned. “Like, shouldn't you be there to keep everyone in check?”

“That's why you hire people you can trust,” Adrien pointed out, tapping the end of his nose in a knowing gesture. “Well, a manager, at least. I kind of just appear every now and then to bake stuff, then I disappear off. It's a good deal.”

She blinked. “Good boss.”

“I'm going to ignore that sarcasm.” He sniffed. “They don't need me there all the time.”

Curious, she asked, “So, it's purely luck whether I get to see you there?”

“Luck or if someone's called in sick,” Adrien confirmed. “If I'm there, I'm usually in the kitchen.”

She didn't know what to say to that, so all that came out was, “Oh.”

It was good to know that she wasn't likely to see him if she visited—that had been the vague plan for going over there after realising she hadn't gotten his number. And she felt far too awkward to ask an employee whether he was in, when they were likely not to even know who she was.

“Thanks for letting me in here,” he said again.

Marinette laughed. “That's starting to sound less sincere every time you say it.”

“Rude!” Adrien exclaimed, sounding close to laughter.

“I can open the door for you to escape out here, if you want,” Marinette offered, jabbing a finger towards the door to the alley. “It's not the most glamorous exit, but it'll stop you from being shanked because of a debt collector.”

He looked bewildered.

“Not a debt collector, then,” she mused. “I'll get it eventually.”

“Are you—” Adrien let out a laugh. “Are you trying to guess _why_ I'm here?”

“Yes,” she confirmed without hesitation. “Have you got a problem with that?”

There was a softness to his expression as he looked at her. “I was hiding from my father.”

That wasn't what she was expecting at all, and she was sure it showed on her face.

“Yeah.” He grinned. “Don't think you would've guessed that.”

The concept of wanting to be apart from a parent wasn't lost on her, but she couldn't imagine a scenario where she would've ran until her cheeks were red and her breaths were coming fast from not wanting to be near her parents. Sure, sometimes she told them that she was too busy to come over to visit when she wasn't feeling up for it—but that was completely different to what Adrien doing.

“I won't bore you with the details,” he said, as though they were talking about the weather. “But that's why I came in here—before, I mean. Last time.”

She was sure her confusion was very evident as she replied, “Okay.”

But still, his shoulders relaxed. “Thanks.”

Marinette busied herself with putting the kettle on and reaching up and getting one of her colourful mugs out of the cupboard. “So, where were you doing before you ran in here?”

“I—I was about to go home, honestly,” he admitted, putting his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “But then I saw the car parked there, and just... ran.”

She didn't dwell on that. “Got somewhere to be, or do you want a drink?”

“I'd love one,” Adrien told her, sounding genuine. “If it's not too much trouble.”

“Lucky for you, I haven't got any other appointments today.” She grinned. “I'm all yours for now.”

He shifted on his feet. “Oh, cool.”

It was then that she realised he wasn't even wearing a coat. It wasn't summer any more—close to being classed as winter, in fact, yet his shirt didn't even have long sleeves.

She took care in making his drink.

They stayed away from the heavy topics. With him sitting across from her at the table, Marinette closest to the door so she'd be able to hear the bell to indicate someone coming inside, they chattered on, clutching their mugs with constant smiles.

And when he accidentally hit her with his leg under the table, she wasn't mad.

He was just tall, that was all.

It was different to when they were in the club; a different kind of fun, one where they weren't plastered against each other, not quite doing what dancing was usually considered.

But that didn't mean that she wasn't having a good time.

Adrien was full of happiness, that was what she thought from spending time with him. He was all smiles, soft looks, and although she knew there was more to him than that, she doubted they were close enough for her to see that.

But from what she'd seen, she liked him.

It helped that he'd put with her stupidity when they were drinking, too.

She made them a second drink.

And when it was time for her to close the shop, they stayed in the kitchen for longer. She turned the lights off in the main area, pulling the curtains over the window and doing the usual security measures before walking back into the kitchen, her slippers making noise as she went.

He looked down at them fondly.

“They're comfy,” she explained, lifting a foot up and wiggling it. “Wouldn't you wear them at work, if you could?”

“Definitely,” he confirmed. “But it might be against health and safety.”

She made a disappointed noise. “Sad.”

“It is,” Adrien agreed, but there was a smile on his lips. “It'll be my dream to wear them while being productive, don't worry.”

“I can't tell you if it'll ever happen,” Marinette replied. “I'm not that kind of fortune-teller, sorry.”

He snorted. “What are you even good for?”

She pouted.

Adrien didn't ask more about her job.

The people that she met had a few reactions: pestering and wanting to know their own future for free, distrust, rude and unbelieving, or those that were politely curious but didn't pry.

It seemed he belonged in the last category.

She didn't like being treated like a circus act, and she was never going to advertise herself like that.

As Adrien was typing on his phone, he remarked, “It's late.”

She wetted her lips. “Got somewhere to be?”

“Not really,” he replied casually, not looking up from the screen. “What about you?”

“I need to think about dinner,” she said. “Luka's gone for a couple of days, and I really can't be bothered to go shopping right now.”

“Oh.” Adrien put away his phone. “Your room-mate, right?”

Surprised that he remembered, she smiled. “Yeah.”

“We could...” Adrien trailed off, clearing his throat. “We could go get something to eat, if you want?”

The smile grew wider. “You sure?”

“I do need to eat, too,” he joked. “There's loads of places near us, I'm sure we'll find something nice.”

“Somewhere warm,” Marinette said, gesturing towards him. “I don't want you to freeze out there because you're too stubborn to wear a jacket.”

He laughed. “I forgot.”

“Right,” she said, dubious. “You _forgot_.”

And to make a point of that, she looked him in the eyes as she put her own jacket on before slipping on her actual shoes. She placed her slippers away in a little basket—where another pair was, for when the weather got even colder—before tidying up the kitchen a little, trying to make it look presentable.

Adrien judged her for leaving dirty mugs in the sink.

She childishly stuck her tongue out.

They found a restaurant nearby, one that wasn't too busy and had meals at an affordable price. When they'd ordered their drinks, Marinette told Adrien her plan to have a starter and then dessert—so she'd be able to finish it—he gladly agreed and said that he'd do the same.

There was a lot of laughter, delicious food, and there wasn't any reason to complain, not even when the food took longer than expected to come out.

It was late when she returned home.

That time, she went to bed with a text from Adrien, saying that he enjoyed their evening.

She grinned.

-x-

Luka was an idiot, but he was smart.

Marinette knew things—the big choices that people made and the outcomes of them—but that wasn't because of hard work or trying to understand people. It was something given to her from birth.

When they'd both been teens and videos on the internet were starting to be popular and widely shared, he'd suggested that they use it to her advantage.

It was stupid, absolutely ridiculous, but when Luka was set to break his arm from skateboarding, Marinette took a video of her telling him about it before it happened.

Luka urged her to make it even stupider, and with shaky hands she recorded him trying to perform a flip on the skateboard.

He edited it to make it even more abrupt and humorous.

At first, she'd been horrified at the thought of putting it online—even when he had a cast on and was telling her to because _he_ found it funny—but she'd gave in without much of an argument.

It took a while for it to get views, but when she started to post similar ones—ones that didn't always result in him breaking a bone, sometimes just smashing something important to him instead—it meant that her channel had a theme.

And with such, she gained a steady amount of subscribers and a source of income that came in handy when she was growing up.

It also helped to promote her store in a strange way. Although it was rare, sometimes people really did come in to enquire about an appointment because they'd watched her videos.

There was proof of her telling Luka he was an idiot throughout the years, only for the very thing to happen in the next scene.

It was unavoidable that people thought it was staged, even when it was all recorded in the same shot.

So, when Luka turned around at saw her holding up her phone towards him, he squinted and asked, “Are you taking a picture?”

“No,” she said, staring out the vowel. “I'm just admiring your back.”

He looked suspicious. “You're watching my back, are you?”

“Always, babe,” she replied with a laugh. “That's what we're meant to do, right?”

“I don't know about that,” he muttered as he got the toaster out, going about making breakfast for himself. And without asking her, he put in some food for her, too. “I trust you about as far as I can throw you.”

“That's pretty far,” she remarked. “I am quite small.”

He laughed.

It was when he was getting the toast out that she announced, “You're going to have to apologise to your sister.”

“Juleka?” he questioned, continuing on without looking up. “Why?”

He put too much force into the spreading, putting the knife through the bread, and it in the process he elbowed his mug off of the counter.

It shattered on the floor.

Luka jumped and turned around, looking down at the floor in horror.

Marinette zoomed in on the destruction.

His voice cracked as he said, “That was my birthday present.”

He was still holding the knife.

The result of that morning was Juleka coming to visit the following night for dinner. It meant that Luka put effort into the meal, trying his hardest to show that he was genuinely sorry that it had happened at all—not blaming Marinette for it at all, knowing that he probably wouldn't have listened to her—though there was the fact that Juleka wasn't upset in the slightest.

Still, he wanted to know that he was sorry.

Juleka was tall, much like her brother, pale, with dark-coloured hair and tended to be quiet. The first time Marinette had met her when she was younger, she'd been incredibly awkward, even though they were the same age.

Luka and Juleka had grown up with different parents, so they'd barely seen each other, not really connecting until they were older. And since Marinette was a staple in Luka's life, she ended up getting to know Juleka, too.

They were friends, but not the type where they'd talk to each other every day.

Juleka didn't know everything about her, and that was fine.

“How much longer, do you think?” Juleka mumbled, resting her head on her hand as they lounged on the sofa.

“A while,” Marinette replied.

The kitchen and living room was technically all-in-one with no wall between them, so they had a clear view of what he was doing.

“So,” she started, feeling a bit awkward as she tucked her feet underneath her legs. “What's going on with you? It feels like I haven't seen you forever.”

Forever meant over half a year.

“Got a new job,” Juleka said, bringing out her phone and smiling when she saw she had a message from her girlfriend. “The boss is my old class-mate, which is a bit weird.”

Thrilled at the news, Marinette chose to question, “Bad weird?”

“Good, I guess,” Juleka clarified. “He's nice, so I'm hoping it won't be too bad.”

All she could really say to that was, “Cool.”

While conversation came natural with Luka, that wasn't really the case with everyone else. Juleka wasn't around all that much—and the times Luka went to see her, Marinette always rejected, saying they needed to spend time together, not with her there as well—and Marinette could count on one hand the amount of times she'd seen Juleka without Luka there.

There was always a reason for friendship, and Luka was theirs.

Juleka would send her funny things through text sometimes, but she was never going to pour her heart out to her any time soon.

Marinette felt the same.

“Thanks for feeding me,” Juleka said when they were having their meal, talking between mouthfuls. “But it's fine, dude. That mug was cheap. I only bought it because it was dumb.”

Luka mumbled, “That's not the point.”

Marinette nudged his foot under the table, giving him a pointed look.

“I really liked it,” he continued, sitting up straighter, not reaching for his food. “I—the price doesn't matter to me.”

Juleka's reaction was to shyly look down at her plate. “Okay.”

Luka shifted in his seat.

For not growing up with each other, they were remarkably alike.

The sound of her ringtone came from across the room on the coffee table.

Marinette was surprised at the name on the screen.

“Hey, Adrien,” she greeted, putting the phone to her ear as she walked over to her bedroom, waving at the two before closing the door. “What's up?”

“How many appointments have you got tomorrow?” was his greeting.

She blinked.

“And hi,” he quickly added on.

“Let me just check,” Marinette told him. Then, when she'd found out, she said, “Got one in the morning and then one in the late afternoon. Why?”

Adrien laughed. “Secret.”

“That's vaguely terrifying,” she replied, amused.

“You'll find out tomorrow,” he answered. “But I really have to go. Bye, Marinette!”

She barely had time to reply before he hung up.

Bewildered, she stared at her phone for a moment.

It lit up with a message from him, but it was all emojis.

She didn't reply.

The first appointment the following day wasn't awful. It was an old man that was trying to sort his life out, asking her whether he should leave things for family members that barely came to see him. Surprisingly, it wasn't a new question, but when she looked above his head, there wasn't much of a hint up there.

She barely knew him, after all.

Still, he left with a grateful smile, a chesty cough that didn't sound healthy at all, and they didn't schedule another session.

When Adrien said she'd find out the following day, she'd had the suspicion that he'd turn up at the store.

And when he did, he had two boxes from his store in his arms.

“Are you bribing me?” she questioned, raising her eyebrows.

“Maybe.” He was smiling. “Want me to put them down here or in the kitchen?”

“That depends,” she started, eyes flickering above his head for a moment. “Are you hiding from anyone?”

He laughed. “No, not today.”

“Here, then,” she suggested.

Adrien placed them down on the coffee table with the explanation, “I need a second opinion on these, so might as well as you, right? I mean, you're nearby and you've had other stuff, so I'm sure you'll be able to give _some_ feedback.”

Bemused, she announced, “You really are bribing me, aren't you?”

He winked.

“If I'm eating these, you have to have some,” Marinette said.

It didn't take much convincing to get him to agree. She fetched a few plates from the kitchen—not that she had many in there—and carried them back with some forks, more than touched that he'd thought to bring them over to her.

“Should I get us something to drink first?” she questioned. Then, she quickly added on, “If you're able to stay that long.”

Adrien assured her that he was done for the day, and that was why he'd stopped round in the first place.

They ate out in the front of the store.

While he said that he wanted her to test them, she didn't have any problems with them. Each one she tried tasted equally as good, a wide variety of flavours that made her want to eat more, and she always smiled at him in encouragement after the first bite.

Placing a hand over her mouth as she chewed, not wanting to talk with her mouthful when she barely knew him, Marinette grinned, trying to convey her happiness.

And from the dimpled smile he showed her in return—complete with his eyes crinkling at the corners—she had to assume that he understood.

With their knees touching as he sat beside her, Adrien asked, “Do they get your stamps of approval, then?”

She was still chewing, choosing to raise her thumb at him instead of talking.

Adrien laughed. “That's good.”

“They're so _good_.” Marinette licked her lips. “For real, but I'm probably not the best person to ask for, like, specifics? I have really low standards for food—not that _this_ is low! I mean, just in general? I'll eat almost anything.”

The best way to describe how he was looking at her was with fondness. “Yeah?”

Her face felt warm. “You're really good at baking.”

“I should hope so,” he said. “I did go to school for it. Glad my time and effort paid off.”

In a spur of the moment decision, Marinette pushed him.

There wasn't much strength to her movement, but Adrien's surprise caused him to jump, a startled laugh escaping him as he saw her wide-eyed look, more laughter tumbling out soon after.

Marinette stopped being tense when she saw he was fine with it.

It was an action that was more suitable for the likes of Luka; someone closer to her, who was used to skinship and wasn't hesitant to mess her hair up just to annoy her.

And when he spoke, the laughter in his voice contrasted his words. “I'm offended.”

She grinned. “Are you?”

“Terribly,” Adrien insisted, sitting upright and looking at her through narrowed eyes. “You're very mean, you know?”

It was ruined by his smile.

“I agree,” she replied.

As he smiled, looking at her with nothing but a positive expression, she could see the blond on the end of his eyelashes, the clear colour of his eyes, and the way his lips were slightly chapped—

And if she wasn't imagining it, he was looking at her closely, too.

It was him that leaned forward first.

Their noses brushed at first before he was gently pressing his lips to hers. Marinette didn't tense up, didn't react in surprise and pull away—rather, she closed her eyes, putting one hand on the sofa as she moved closer to him, tilting her head up to make it less awkward for the two of them.

It was soft, tentative; not filled with lust or overly enthusiastic. While Marinette hadn't thought that they'd end up as they were—not so suddenly, at least—she wasn't against it.

The kiss was inquisitive.

She rather liked how it felt.

And as he responded in kind, she could feel his smile against her lips.

It made her feel a bit giddy.

The music through her store was playing quietly, his lips were soft against hers, and she could feel his warm breath against her skin.

Marinette scooted closer, reaching out and placing a hand on his thigh for balance, gladly returning the kiss was enthusiasm, trying to show just how much she was enjoying it—

A car blasted their horn outside.

It helped her remember that they were sat in view of the large window, where anyone could gaze in and watch them, and heat flooded to her face from embarrassment from that realisation. Marinette was never one for being overly touchy in public with strangers—it was different when the setting was that of a club, or somewhere where it wasn't supposed to be a place of work.

She jerked away.

Adrien looked equally wide-eyed as he stared at her with parted lips, clearly uncertain on what to say.

But instead of words, Marinette burst out into laughter.

He joined in, shoulders shaking as he put his face in his hands, and the way it sounded close to sobs made her laugh harder.

“I'm so sorry,” he said, voice muffled before he lifted his head back up. “I—this is your _work_. I shouldn't have done that.”

She cleared her throat. “You mean the kiss, or the location?”

“The latter.” He wetted his lips. “Unless you regret the first.”

Marinette beamed. “I don't.”

“Oh,” Adrien breathed. “That's—that's good.”

For lack of a better response, she pointed out, “You've got flour on your shirt.”

He looked down to confirm that. “I did come straight here.”

“Careful,” she started, fondness clear in her tone. “Or I might just start to think you came here to woo me.”

Adrien didn't shy away. “And if I did?”

“I'd be pretty impressed,” she revealed, reaching out and smoothing out her hair. “My stomach's always a good way to get me to like you.”

His smile showed his dimples. “Yeah?”

“Well, that and making me laugh,” Marinette confessed. “You seem to be doing pretty good so far.”

He sounded genuine as he said, “That's good to hear.”

-x-

For all the usefulness that would be associated with knowing the future, there wasn't much that she could do about it.

Marinette had learned that early.

So, when she passed Luka in the morning, she said to him, “Try not to trip today.”

He frowned. “Real helpful.”

She saluted before leaving.

The text she got a few hours later proved that it still happened.

It was the usual routine.

Her first appointment had called up and cancelled, so Marinette spent most of the time on her phone and lounged across her armchair, feet dangling over the edge with her ever-present slippers on.

Adrien's name popped up with a picture.

She grinned.

It was a picture of the cakes he'd made that day; he'd told her the night before that he had a special order for a birthday cake, and he'd just finished icing it. He'd been nervous at first, since it was such a last minute order, but he'd managed it just fine.

And when she'd text that back, he'd replied with far too many emojis.

She asked whether he was there for long.

Then, with the confirmation that he'd stay for a while more, Marinette's lunch plans were decided.

The bakery was crowded, but not in an awful way. There were still a few tables open, but the music was being drowned out by the sound of customers talking, and the food on display at the front were starting to run low.

She started to see why he was staying a bit longer. Adrien had told her that while he'd employed others to run the front, he hadn't decided whether he was going to employ anyone else to help him with baking.

Logically, he knew that it would be a good decision, but he wanted to be in-charge of it.

She felt it wasn't her place to pitch in with her decision.

It was when she was greeted by one of his employees—that was wearing a pastel-coloured apron with the logo delicately stitched into it—that she saw the fault in her plans.

She'd come to see him, but that wasn't really a good idea while he was working, was it?

After ordering a muffin and her drink, Marinette took one of the open seats while waiting for her purchase to be taken over to her. The chair was comfortable, clearly cared for as the cushion was clean, and the tables had coasters that hadn't been there before.

Adrien was putting a lot of money in the small touches.

The walls had more decorations, but it wasn't too cluttered. The menu on the chalkboard with handwritten, completely with a fancy font for the titles, and it was all very quaint.

And once her order was on the table, Marinette took a picture and sent it to him.

His response came within a few minutes.

She'd finished the muffin by then.

And when she neglected to answer immediately, she was startled when she looked up to a call of her name. Adrien was walking out from behind the counter, holding a hand up to wave at her, and the wide smile across his lips definitely wasn't forced.

There wasn't anything terrible above his head.

She grinned right back. “Hey.”

“You're here,” he stated, coming to stand in front of her. “You're—you could've said, you know?”

“You were busy,” Marinette pointed out. “Or are you still? I don't want to interrupt you.”

Without hesitation, he told her, “You'd never interrupt me.”

She snorted. “That's not true.”

“You're a welcome interruption, then,” he clarified. “You could always come out back with me, if you want.”

Marinette looked at him in surprise. “Isn't that, like, against health and safety?”

Adrien laughed. “As long as you're not right beside me, it's fine. My employees take their breaks back there, so you can just pretend you're one of them.”

“The employee experience?” she mused. “Are you saying I'll get to see whether you're a horrible boss?”

“Sure,” he agreed, smiling. “Why not?”

He gestured for her to take her drink with her, so she complied. If he was really offering, she didn't see the harm in following him.

It felt weird to walk around the counter to go through the door, and the kitchen was definitely different to the one at her store—which was to be expected, of course, but it was still a new experience to see.

The majority of it was for cooking, while there was a desk past a half-wall, and an archway that led into a small room with a table and chairs, clearly meant for employees to take their breaks.

But out of all the things in the room—from the various cakes and pastries that were set out to cool, in the process of being finished—it was someone that was eating their food, minding their business, as they scrolled through their phone that caught her attention the most.

Adrien was looking at her with an encouraging smile, waiting for her reaction.

She blurted out, “Is that Juleka?”

Bewildered, all he responded was, “Yes?”

“That's Luka's sister,” Marinette readily revealed, peering around the corner, only just noticing the earphones that were in Juleka's ears. “I never thought—she said she'd gotten a job, but she never actually said where it was.”

“I had no idea,” Adrien said as he wandered over to a sink, washing his hands. “Yeah, she's working here? I was surprised when her résumé came in.”

Marinette held the mug in two hands. “Are you the friend she went to school with?”

“Yes, that's me.” He smiled. “We weren't, like, super close, but I kind of knew her?”

And that was it for that conversation.

Adrien gestured for her to take a seat at his desk, where she was able to see over the top to see what he was doing, and the atmosphere wasn't awkward at all between them. Their banter was playful, conversations never turning hurtful, and she constantly found her cheeks starting to protest from how much she smiled when she was with him.

There was something about him that made him so wonderful to talk to.

It was easy being with Adrien; they hadn't really addressed what had happened in her store before, not even through text, but nothing had really changed afterwards.

He still constantly text her, and his behaviour in person wasn't any different.

She didn't know whether to be relieved or not.

“That's what you brought over for me before,” Marinette pointed out, gesturing to what he was icing at that moment. “Did it pass the test, then?”

“Yes,” he confirmed. “Thanks for helping out.”

She grinned. “If it means I'll get fed, I'm free to help out any time.”

He laughed. “That's good to know.”

When Juleka had taken her earphones out, walking out of sight and coming back outside without them, she placed her plate in the dishwasher before turning around to face the two of them.

The surprise on her expression didn't make it into her voice. “Hey, Marinette,” Juleka greeted, putting her apron back on neatly. “Weird that you're here, but I need to get back to work. Bye.”

“Okay,” Adrien said.

Juleka disappeared through the door with a wave over her shoulder.

“She was really cool about that,” he remarked, turning to look at her for a moment. “Is she always like that? You're the Juleka expert out of the two of us.”

“I guess?” Marinette replied. “I think she's just shy. And I'll probably get Luka texting me about this soon.”

He let out a laugh. “Snitching, eh?”

“Unfortunately,” she gravely confirmed.

“I haven't really experienced it, to be honest,” Adrien admitted, focusing back on his work, no longer keeping eye contact. “The whole tattle-tale thing, I mean. I'm an only child.”

She softly butted in with, “Me, too.”

“Cool,” he whispered.

“My parents are really cool, though,” she confessed. “I never really felt left out? The family business was always run from home, so they were always there if I needed them. Plus, I got to sit on some gruesome things—which was probably a bit too soon for my innocent eyes, but I'm really chill about a lot of stuff because of it.”

Adrien told her, “I'm jumping to a lot of conclusions right now.”

“Oh, right,” Marinette said with a laugh. “Sorry, I just thought you knew.”

“Knew what?” he asked.

“My parents are morticians,” she explained without hesitation. “A family business and all that. So, there was bound to be corpses in there sometimes, and I might've been a bit _too_ intrigued.”

He fumbled with the piping bag, causing icing to spill from the top. “You—what?”

She snickered. “Sorry, was that too much? I forget how weird people think it is.”

“You've—you've _seen_ that?” Adrien asked, shocked as he tried to salvage the icing that had fallen onto the counter. It was turning messier with each passing second. “As a kid?”

“Well, yeah,” Marinette confirmed, shrugging. “It wasn't such a big deal? It wasn't, like, blood and guts. At first, I just saw the make-up bit at the end—you know, trying to make them pretty and presentable for the funeral.”

He bluntly said, “It sounds horrible.”

She laughed. “Yeah, a lot of people say that.”

“I don't get it, but okay,” Adrien continued on. “I'm not trying to judge you or anything. If you enjoy that, then—yeah, that's fair. I'd just rather never see a dead person again, thanks.”

“I won't force you to,” she assured him, amusement clear in her voice. “I'll be good.”

He flashed her a smile. “That's nice to hear.”

And as he went back to piping, the words above his head changed. Marinette looked in fascination as they merged until they were unreadable, before reforming a small phrase. It was never a sentence, never had punctuation or capital letters, and most of the time, it was pretty ambiguous for what it really meant.

As with when she'd first seen him that day, it wasn't anything big.

And telling him to watch out wasn't going to do anything—as she had hours worth of evidence of Luka doing that exact thing.

So, she watched in wait, taking casual sips of her drink that had gotten cold as he worked.

“I'll be right back,” he told her, holding up a tray and going towards the door.

But when he went to open it, someone else was on the other side, doing the exact same thing.

The tray clattered to the floor, the food ruined and splattered across the tiles.

Adrien groaned. “ _No_.”

It was the other employee—the one that wasn't Juleka. They stammered out apologies, offering to clean it up, but Adrien wasn't mad at them in the slightest. He shooed them back outside to work, asking to let him clean it up before they had their break.

Marinette put the mug down on the coaster on his desk, getting up to her feet and calling out, “I'll help.”

He didn't say no.

She kneeled down beside him, sweeping up what she could, and her eyes flickered above his head.

With a frown, she realised that the words hadn't changed—that he was still set to do the same thing, again.

It didn't matter if she interfered.

But she still found herself saying, “It's going to happen again.”

“Eh?” Adrien asked, distracted as he fetched the mop. “What did you say?”

“The spill,” Marinette clarified, gesturing vaguely to the cream-smeared floor. “It's going to happen again at some point—today or tomorrow, I guess.”

He squinted. “Are you giving me a free session?”

“A bit of warning,” she replied. “Like with the train.”

“The train still _happened_!” he pointed out, catching on quickly. “It's not like I could avoid it! Plus, mess always happens here. You're not being very specific.”

She shrugged. “I'm just saying what I know.”

“Well,” he started, clearing his throat. “Thanks.”

It was clear that he wasn't shooting it down and claiming it was fake immediately—but that didn't mean he was going to invest and take what she was saying seriously. As long he didn't laugh at her, calling her a fraud, Marinette was happy with the reaction.

After they'd cleaned up the mess and Adrien had ducked his head out to call the employee back in for their break, Marinette stepped to the side and said, “I should probably get going to let you get back to this.”

“You sure?” Adrien asked, smile not quite reaching his eyes. “I know it's not very exciting, but you don't have to run away.”

“My lunch is almost over,” she told him, bringing out her phone to check the time. “And I have an appointment in... fifteen minutes. So, I really should be getting back.”

“Okay,” he said quietly. Then, with more volume, he repeated himself, “Okay, yeah. I understand.”

It was a spur of the moment thing to lean forward and kiss his cheek.

And from how wide his eyes were, it was clear he hadn't been expecting it.

“Text me later,” Marinette said.

“I—yeah,” he stuttered out, holding up a hand and gently touching where she'd kissed. “I will.”

On her way out, she saluted at Juleka.

The bemused look she got in return was more than worth it.

-x-

“Want to meet him?” Marinette asked from where she was lounging across the sofa, scrolling through her messages. “We were going to grab dinner somewhere, but I can invite him over and order in, if you want.”

Luka sounded uncertain as he questioned, “Are you sure you want me to meet him?”

“Yeah, dude,” she confirmed with hesitation. “Besides, he's Juleka's boss. It's always good to have connections, right?”

He was close to mumbling as he replied, “What if he's weird?”

She pretended to shoot him with her fingers. “We're all weird here.”

“Reassuring,” he flatly responded. “I guess—I guess you can invite him over, then.”

“Sweet.” She beamed. “I promise we won't make out in front of you or anything.”

With a frown, Luka said, “You're not even dating.”

“Who knows?” Marinette tapped away at her phone, typing out the message to invite Adrien over. “I haven't asked, he hasn't asked—we're just going with the flow, I guess. I don't have a problem with it.”

Luka pushed the hair out of his eyes. “He better not be a jerk.”

“I don't think he is,” she told him. “He's pretty nice, and all the options for him seem to just—happen to him, rather than be _because_ of him? From what I can tell so far, at least.”

“That's not very clear at all,” he muttered.

“It's never said he's going to hurt someone!” she defended. “Plus, I'm starting to see the sooner stuff, you know? Granted, it's not as soon as _you—_ but it's there! And he didn't call me a hack when something I told him came true the following morning. He just sent me a picture of it with a load of sad faces.”

Luka was still frowning. “Charming.”

“Oh, screw you,” Marinette said. “Adrien's nice, you'll see.”

“Has he said yes, then?”

Her phone did vibrate.

She grinned. “Yes.”

After getting his order through the phone, Adrien arrived roughly ten minutes before the food was delivered. He was shy, stealing glances at her and smiling a bit too much, but Luka was just as awkward when faced with new people.

“I like your food,” Luka blurted out, aiming for a compliment.

Adrien looked bewildered. “I—thanks.”

Marinette snickered behind her hand.

“You went to school with Juleka?” Luka asked, even though he knew the answer.

“I did,” Adrien confirmed, smoothing out his shirt. “We were in the same class for years, but we never really—we didn't hang out much? I never knew about you, but, like, I didn't _expect_ to? We were never close enough for that.”

The babbling was endearing.

“We lived apart,” Luka offered as explanation.

All Adrien could say to that was, “Oh.”

“So.” Marinette broke the awkwardness with a clap of her hands, effectively getting their attention. “Other than Juleka, what you both have in common is me. Let's talk about that.”

Luka looked unimpressed.

The doorbell rang, ending that conversation before it even started.

As they only had two stools by the counters, they ate at the dining table instead. Adrien took the seat near the window, so he wouldn't have to sit in the middle and be wedged between the two of them, and Marinette went to fetch the plates and cutlery that she'd forgotten to get before.

The awkwardness lessened as the night went on.

Eventually, Adrien and Luka were shyly making jokes, trying to understand each other's personalities, and Marinette was happy to scoop more food onto her plate, content with listening to the two of them converse.

It was clear that they were getting on.

When Luka didn't like someone, he clammed up, barely contributing to the conversation. And if Marinette was present, he'd look towards her with wide and begging eyes, wanting her to pitch in.

They probably weren't going to be best friends, but they liked each other, at least.

And when they did stray to the topic she'd suggested—her—she almost choked on her food.

“Does this kind of count as meeting the parents?” Adrien joked, reaching up and wiping his mouth with his palm. “I'm pretty sure if I offend you somehow, Marinette's going to dump me.”

She chewed her food with more vigour than necessary.

Luka tilted his head a little.

“Not that she'd be that mean,” Adrien hastily corrected, talking quickly. “I just—I was trying to make a joke. Sorry.”

“How long have you been dating?” Luka asked.

Adrien blinked. “A week.”

Marinette shoved more food into her mouth, incredulous.

Luka looked like he was close to laughing.

“It's not weird I remember that, right?” Adrien asked, eyes darting between the two of them. “I mean, it's a _week_. It's not like I'm that bad at maths. It's really easy to remember, you know? Especially since my birthday's soon.”

“Your birthday's _soon_?” Marinette blurted.

She quickly covered her mouth with her hand when she realised she still had food in it.

“Yeah,” Adrien confirmed, shoulders slumping, eyes focusing on his plate as he pushed around his fork. “It—it's not really a big deal? But it's good to keep track of the date—or whatever. I think I said it in passing before.”

Luka asked, “How old are you?”

Marinette kicked him under the table. “He was in the same class as Juleka, dumbass.”

“Oh.” Luka frowned. “Right.”

Adrien ran a hand through his hair. “I'll be twenty-seven.”

Luka nodded.

Adrien was still looking at him.

It was clear that Luka wasn't picking up on the social cue.

“He's twenty-eight,” she told Adrien in a loud whisper. “The older brother type, you know?”

Confused, Adrien's eyebrows were furrowed as he glanced at her.

Marinette's response was to eat some more.

Adrien let out an amused breath at that.

She grinned right back.

After dinner, they waited until the rain died down for Adrien to leave. He insisted that he didn't want to impose on his first time over by sleeping there, too. And since he lived within walking distance, he hadn't drove, nor had he thought to check the weather and bring an umbrella with him.

But rather than just lending him an umbrella, Marinette snagged one on the way out, putting on her coat and gloves, making her intentions to come along with him very clear.

Adrien's smile was soft. “You sure?”

“Absolutely,” she assured him. Then, she tossed the umbrella in the air a little, catching it by the handle. “This is just in case it rains again.”

“I'll trust you to protect me if that happens, then,” he said, putting a hand over his heart. “You better keep me nice and dry.”

She winked. “I'll be the moist one.”

The laugh that left him was loud.

Thankfully, the rain had stopped. Marinette kept the handle in her hand, swinging it around as they walked through the streets, her other hand clasped in his.

It was nice.

With a bit of nervousness, she admitted, “I didn't—I didn't know we were dating.”

“What?” Adrien's voice came out sounding a bit strangled. “You— _how_?”

“It's not we said anything!” Marinette defended, squeezing his hand in hers. “You just—you kind of just assumed, while I was waiting for us to say, like, anything?”

It was easy to see the colour flood his cheeks. “For real?”

“Not that I mind being your girlfriend,” she stated, swinging their intertwined hands with more force than necessary, tugging him along to continue walking. “It just caught me by surprise, that's all.”

“But you...” Adrien trailed off. Then, he sounded ever-so-unsure as he said, “You kissed my cheek.”

She grinned. “Yeah, I did.”

“I thought—”

“Well, we can just say you thought right, and say we've been dating for a week,” she offered. “Not like I've been running off with anyone else, yeah? I'm faithful, even when I don't know it.”

He ran a hand through his hair, causing it to stand up. “Are you sure?”

“I mean, I was here, wondering whether you actually wanted something serious, while you were off thinking we're already dating,” Marinette responded, shrugging. “I don't really see the cons here? But if we ever get to the point of considering marriage, you really do have to ask me.”

With a laugh, Adrien assured her, “I'll make sure it's very clear, don't worry.”

She beamed. “Cool.”

“Cool,” he repeated. “So, we're... we're dating, right?”

“Yes.”

“Good.” He let out a sigh of relief. “Because I kind of already told my friends. The two from the club? They've been wanting to meet you again.”

She was surprised at that. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed. “They're—they're really good friends.”

For lack of a better response, Marinette lamely repeated, “Cool.”

He looked amused at that. “Cool.”

She grimaced, a bit embarrassed.

Adrien bumped his shoulder against hers gently. “Are you free tomorrow?”

“Pretty much, yeah,” she replied without hesitation. “But I've still got work, so that sucks.”

“Want to do something in the evening?” he proposed. “I could make us dinner.”

She grinned. “My stomach's always a good way to get my attention.”

“I know,” he said with a smile. “You told me before.”

“I'm surprised you remembered,” she remarked.

Adrien continued to look at her with that smile that reached his eyes. “I remember a lot about you.”

“That's always good,” Marinette said. “I am your girlfriend, after all.”

“Yeah,” he said softly, adjusting how their fingers were laced together. “You are.”

The umbrella was wholly unneeded.

But when they were outside his front door, standing on his porch—an actual _porch—_ she held onto it still as he gently pressed his lips against hers, kissing her as though she was fragile and could be broken if he used too much force.

It was very sweet.

She wasn't breathless, filled with lust, or overwhelmed with need; rather, as they pulled apart and gazed into each others eyes, the fondness she felt for him completely justified the sudden relationship.

It was spontaneous, something she hadn't done before, but she didn't have any problems with it.

She kissed his chastely before taking a step back.

Her eyes flickered above his head.

“I hope you like burnt food,” she vaguely said.

Adrien looked confused with a smile as he waved at her.

She had a skip in her step as she walked home.

It wasn't long before her phone buzzed with a message from him.

-x-

Lila's life was as wild as ever.

“I'm not kidding,” Lila insisted, sounding exasperated, even through the phone. “This dude just charged in here, demanding to know if I'm a hack? Like, sorry you can't please your wife, but I'm not at fault because my crystal ball can't find her g-spot.”

Marinette hummed. “Sure.”

Lila breathed out loudly. “I'm fed up.”

“With working?” she asked.

“Is this even called working?” Lila muttered. “I'm just—I'm just playing house, you know? Barely anyone comes in as a customer, and I've gotten _another_ bad review online.”

“You could always change professions,” Marinette pointed out. “Your parents are chill about paying for everything still, right?”

Lila snorted. “That means telling them that they're right.”

“Or,” she slowly started. “You could try and be more—you know, attentive? Nice?”

“They're not dying, I don't need to have bedside manner,” Lila grumbled.

Marinette laughed. “There's a reason people come to me, you know?”

“You're bullshit, too,” Lila accused. “You're just booked more.”

“You could always advertise for events,” she suggested. “It's a party trick, right? And people will be too drunk to even when if what you're saying is true. It's always a easy gig to get paid.”

Lila sighed again. “That's too much effort.”

“Go back to being a socialite, then.”

“I never stopped,” Lila retorted. “Besides, it's fun. You could live a little.”

“I am living,” Marinette pointed out. “And I've got a boyfriend. Much better than I was doing last month, right?”

Lila scoffed. “Why are all the good things happening to you?”

“I deserve them,” she replied without hesitation. “I'm a good person and don't scream at old men. Automatically, that makes me better than you.”

“I was voted as the best person in my graduating class,” Lila proclaimed. “Three times in a row.”

“You graduated three times?” Marinette questioned. “Your parents really must have a lot of money to blow.”

Lila made a disapproving noise with her tongue. “Why don't you get over here and find out?”

“I can't tell if you're threatening me or actually do want me to go over there.”

“Come,” Lila said. “I'm bored.”

With only a moment to contemplate her choice, Marinette asked, “I'm closing in an hour or two, can you wait that long?”

“Yeah, fine,” Lila agreed with a sigh. “But swing by my apartment. I'm already at home.”

“I don't want to drink, though,” she interjected before she could hang up. “I've got a dentist appointment tomorrow, and I'd rather not be hungover and hating life while being stabbed with tools, you know?”

As always, it didn't work out that way.

Lila was good at getting her way.

Adrien didn't have any sympathy for her.

The dentist appointment was in the morning. She had set her alarm early, posted a sign on the front of her store saying that it would open at noon, and drove to the new location.

Her last one had closed down a few months ago, so she'd been transferred to another. Marinette smoothed out her hair as she stepped through the front door, greeted by the clean front office and the receptionist there. They directed her to walk through to the right to the waiting area, which was complete with multiples magazines and a television that was showing the news.

She messaged Adrien instead.

He wished her luck.

Her name was called within close to ten minutes.

The new dentist was a man.

He was quite grumpy, keeping the conversation curt and straight-to-the-point, and it was the assistant that did most of the chatting.

If it wasn't for her headache, it wouldn't have been entirely unpleasant.

Adrien still had no sympathy.

He told her to stop by and pick up a coffee before going to her store, though, so she agreed to that.

And when he told her that it was free, she placed the money in the tip jar instead.

He laughed.

Marinette saluted at him on her way out.

She was really happy about him being her boyfriend; there were some extra perks, apparently, but it was his personality that she was really in it for.

The free coffee was a nice bonus.

Adrien came round when he'd finished baking, saying that he wasn't needed at the store any longer. He assured her that he trusted the staff he'd hired—plus there were cameras to make sure everything was safe—and that there wasn't any problem in him leaving early.

“I never wanted to be there all day, you know?” he said. “I want to be that mysterious boss that only appears to bake before leaving—only there when I'm needed.”

She patted his shoulder. “I promise to need you more than that.”

He beamed. “Really?”

“Sure,” Marinette agreed. “Someone has to tell you that you have flour on you, right?”

With a sheepish smile, he brushed off his shirt. Then, when he realised he'd put it onto her floor, he offered to get a brush and clean it—

“It's fine,” she told him with a laugh. “You can barely see it.”

“I'm still sorry,” he said. “I wasn't thinking.”

“It's not like you committed some great sin,” she pointed out. “It's cool.”

He brushed his hair from his face. “I'll make sure I'm clean next time.”

“I want to see you sparkling,” Marinette replied.

Adrien laughed. “Anything for you.”

She didn't have an appointment that afternoon, but they stayed out in the front, in case anyone came in. Adrien sat beside her on the sofa, the two of them holding mugs that he'd volunteered to make drinks in—showing that he was becoming familiar with her kitchen—and she didn't have any complaints.

If anything, she liked that he knew where she kept the spoons.

“How was the dentist?” he questioned.

She shrugged. “I've still got my teeth.”

“I haven't been in a while,” he admitted. “I know I should but... I really don't _want_ to.”

“So, the same as every kid,” she mused.

He wrinkled his nose. “No.”

“Sounds like it,” she joked.

“I guess,” Adrien gave in without much of a fight. He sagged back against the sofa, but he was careful not to spill the drink. “It's just—my father's my dentist, and I _really_ don't want to see him right now. Plus, trying to get everything sorted to go somewhere else is just too much of a hassle. It's not like I've got a toothache or anything, so it's fine.”

Marinette didn't quite know what to do with all that information. “You really don't like him, do you?”

“Not any more, no,” he admitted.

“But you did,” she tentatively said, certain it wasn't her place to probe—but she was still curious. “Once.”

“Before my mother died, yeah, sure,” Adrien revealed, so casually and without any change in his voice; it was as though they were talking about something unimportant. “But now—he's insufferable? Really protective, even though I'm an adult.”

She gently placed a hand on his knee. “Sorry about your mother.”

“Thanks,” he whispered.

Marinette didn't ask any more questions about that.

What she did ask, however, was whether he had any plans for his birthday.

Adrien frowned at that. “I really don't want anything big, but knowing Nino, he's going to try something.”

“Something?” Marinette questioned.

“He's always trying to throw me a big party,” he admitted, pausing to take a sip of his drink. “But, like, I've never had that many friends, so it feels a bit—weird? When there's only a few of us there?”

“I hate parties,” Marinette revealed. “Too much pressure to make sure everyone's happy. I can't deal with it.”

He laughed. “Well, yeah, but that's why everyone else plans them for you—you're supposed to be the happy one.”

“But that never works for you?” she asked.

“I'd rather something small,” he revealed. “Something—not so flashy, you know? I grew up with all these big parties with the family members that I didn't even _know_ , and all I ever wanted was something small, where no one would have to fight for cake. Like, as much as I love Nino, I really don't want to throw up for hours because he took me clubbing and wouldn't stop supplying me with booze.”

“That's not a hypothetical, is it?” Marinette asked.

He grinned. “It was last year.”

“Poor you.” She patted his shoulder. “I'd offer to try and talk him down, but I don't know him.”

Adrien slumped against the sofa. “Pray for me.”

-x-

“What should I buy him?” Luka asked, holding up two different coasters and staring at them intently. “I don't know which is better.”

“Neither,” Marinette told him, reaching out and taking them from him, putting them back down in their piles. “Adrien doesn't need coasters, my dude. I'm sorry.”

Luka was still looking at them. “Are you sure? Coasters are very helpful—”

“Luka,” she interrupted with a laugh. “I can assure you, you don't need to buy Adrien coasters.”

“Did you count them in every room?” he asked.

She countered with, “No one has coasters in every room.”

He went to pick them up again.

Marinette slapped his hand.

“That hurts,” Luka muttered, holding his hand to his chest. “What are you getting him, then?”

With Adrien becoming promoted to her boyfriend—and them both being very aware of it that time—it meant that he spent more time at her apartment during the evenings, which led to interacting with Luka more.

Marinette was proud to say that the two of them had exchanged phone numbers.

And with that progression, it meant that Luka was fussing about him present—as he did with everyone else.

“Me, naked in his bed,” she deadpanned.

He squinted. “Isn't that a bit... lacklustre?”

“If that's a jab at the size of my breasts, I'm going to punch you,” she declared, but there was no heat in her voice. “No, I'm getting him something else.”

“Okay,” Luka started. “What is it?”

She rolled her eyes. “A secret.”

“I can keep a secret,” he said, pestering her. “Tell me.”

“I'm not telling you anything,” Marinette retorted. “You're terrible at keeping secrets.”

He had the gall to look offended. “I'm not going to tell him!”

“No?” she asked. “I wouldn't put it past you to ask him which coaster he likes best before you buy one.”

“You're really rude about these coasters—”

Exasperated, she threw her hands up in the air as she exclaimed, “No one wants coasters for their birthday!”

“You did,” Luka interjected.

“Never use me as an example of being right,” she stated, waggling a finger in his direction. “That's just setting yourself up for failure.”

His laugh was quiet. “You're right, sorry.”

Marinette sniffed. “Good.”

“So...” Luka trailed off, tugging on his sleeve. “It's a no for the coasters?”

When it came time for Adrien's birthday, it fell on the weekend. He opened the bakery up as usual, invited Marinette over for their lunch break and gossiped in the kitchen—where his employees were starting to recognise Marinette, greeting her with her name when she walked up to the till—before saying that he'd come over to pick her up in the evening to go to their destination.

Luka's present was wrapped neatly, complete with a bow on it.

Marinette's paled in comparison to it.

But when Adrien opened hers, pulling her into a hug as he expressed his thanks, she didn't feel any less for not having the skill to put the effort into presentation.

“Oh, my gosh,” Adrien whispered in excitement, sincerity clear in his voice. “Thank you! I needed some new ones, and they're so _cute_.”

Luka looked pleasantly surprised from the reaction.

“Nice coasters,” she remarked lamely.

Adrien beamed.

The destination turned out to be Alya and Nino's apartment.

It wasn't the most spacious, but it wasn't awful inside. Alya smiled widely and pulled her into a hug when Adrien gestured behind and reintroduced them, and Marinette was surprised by it, enough so that she didn't respond in time before Alya had pulled back and started to usher them inside.

“Hi,” Luka said as his greeting, holding up a hand in an awkward wave.

Nino's smile showed off his teeth. “Hey, man. Adrien's told us about you.”

The way Luka's shoulders relaxed was telling of how nervous he had been about coming over. Originally, he'd claimed that he didn't need to be invited, but Adrien had pestered him until he'd agreed to come along.

Marinette was just glad that they were becoming friends.

And as nervous as she'd been about meeting Adrien's best friends while sober, it seemed that her worries were for nothing. They were full of funny remarks, banter that wasn't mean-spirited, and it was easy to become comfortable while listening to the three close friends talk.

Luka sat beside her, sipping his drink.

It was alcoholic, but it was weak, and there was a lot of other options that didn't involve getting drunk.

From Adrien's pleased expression and body language, it was obvious that he was glad it wasn't a party.

“Of course it's a party,” Nino argued, gesturing to the table where they'd laid out snacks, complete with a pile of napkins and plates that everyone could help themselves to. “Party food, drinks, and I can't remember where I stashed the hats, but I promise you, dude, we bought them.”

“We did,” Alya chipped in. “They're sparkly.”

Adrien's grimaced. “Great.”

“I did the glitter myself,” Nino declared.

Adrien looked at them pointedly and clapped.

Nino took a mocking bow.

Glancing beside her, Marinette shared an amused smile with Luka. While he was never one for conversation with strangers, he did become a bit looser with his lips when he was tipsy; so, it was a waiting contest to see whether he'd warm up to them from time together, or whether the alcohol would have him rambling about some topic that was stuck in his head.

Either way, Marinette was glad that he was there with her.

And from the way Adrien kept glancing at her and including her with the conversations, he was very happy, too.

It was a nice night.

Alya and Nino put their numbers into her phone at the end, and surprised Luka by doing the same with him.

Marinette was beaming.

Instead of walking off with Adrien immediately—who was reassuring her that he wanted he really did want to go home, that he could see his friends any other day—the two of them walked back to her place with Luka.

“Alya's nice,” Marinette said, linking her arm through Luka's as they walked. “Very forward.”

Adrien shivered in his coat. “That's one way to put it.”

“Careful,” she stated, trying to move her arm through further so she could shove it into her pocket as well. “I have a duty to tell her anything you say about her. It's the friend code.”

“You've been friends for, like, three hours,” Adrien replied.

“Five,” she quipped. “It's late.”

Luka's contribution to the topic was, “I think it's more like six hours.”

“Thank you,” Marinette said, moving closer to him until she could rest her head against his arm. It wasn't comfortable, and all she could hear was the rustling of his coat against her ear as they walked. “I knew I could trust you.”

She pulled away in a matter of seconds.

“If that's friend code.” Adrien cleared his throat. “It's my duty to tell Luka everything, isn't it?”

“No,” Marinette denied.

Luka didn't say a word.

“Why not?” Adrien questioned.

“Because he lives with me,” she pointed out. “It's completely different.”

With a laugh, he asked, “Oh, is it room-mate code?”

“Yeah, dude,” Marinette confirmed. “A new set of rules. You can't do anything that'll get my clothes thrown out of the window.”

“I've never done that,” Luka muttered.

“You did knock my plant once,” she retorted.

Luka made a noise of disagreement. “You didn't warn me—”

“I did!” Marinette exclaimed. “But it didn't matter! Fate is against me.”

“You're very dramatic when you drink,” Adrien remarked.

She sniffed. “I'm dramatic all the time, thank you.”

“You're right,” he agreed. “But going as far as to think fate's against you is a bit over-the-top, you know?”

“I know everything,” she proclaimed with an exaggerated toss of her hair over her shoulder. “I could prove it right now.”

Amused, Adrien enquired, “Oh, can you?”

“Well, maybe not right _now_ ,” she started, eyebrows knitting together as her gaze went above his head. “But you're going to break your little toe soon.”

“...That's not at all ominous,” he said dryly. “Are you threatening me, Marinette?”

Luka snorted. “She'll record it if you let her.”

“I would _not_!” Marinette interjected.

“You do it to me all the time,” he knowingly replied, looking down at her with a smile. “But that's normally when you tell me that it's going to happen. Sorry, Adrien, maybe next time you'll make it onto her channel.”

Adrien looked perplexed. “Channel?”

“Yeah, her—”

Marinette clapped her hands, interrupting the two as she stopped holding onto Luka's arm. “Let's change the subject.”

“Coward,” Luka said.

“Call me a pussy like I know you want to,” she retorted, narrowing her eyes. “You are allowed to swear now that you're old. Your mother's not going to come and hit you over the head with her slipper.”

Luka frowned. “But you used to hit me.”

She batted her eyelashes. “I was being good.”

“Suck up,” Adrien teased. “Bet you're a real parent pleaser, eh?”

“That sounds mildly inappropriate,” was her response.

Luka's was, “Yes, she is.”

“That's it, you need to leave,” Marinette said, putting her hands on Luka's back and pushing him forward. “Faster, faster!”

His laughter was loud.

“You two are cute,” Adrien said, fondness clear in his tone.

“I'm not into threesomes,” she stated. “Just to clear that up and avoid any awkward situations in the future.”

He blinked. “What?”

Luka snickered.

When their apartment came into view, Luka gave Adrien a hug that was more awkward than it needed to be, and when he turned towards her, he ruffled her hair, making it stand up horribly.

Marinette threatened, “I'll bite your hand.”

“Save that for your boyfriend,” Luka teased.

After picking up some clothes for the following day, her parting gesture to him was holding up her middle finger.

Then, Adrien took her hand into his, the movement becoming more and more natural to the two of them; she wasn't worried about clammy palms, knew that he wouldn't be offended when she pulled away, and she didn't feel the need to try and hold his for as long as possible, not wanting to be the one to leave first.

Those kind of worries were put at ease when she was with him.

Things felt natural.

The sight of Adrien's smile that made his eyes crinkle in the corners, the way his hand felt against hers, and the softness of his lips were more and more familiar; things she was used to, loved to experience.

She knew where to put her shoes when they got to his.

Adrien offered, “Want a drink?”

“I already have to pee,” she told him. “Don't make it any worse.”

He laughed.

It was when she was in the bathroom—the one near his bedroom, as it was warmer—that she heard a loud noise, one that wasn't because of her.

She was buttoning up her jeans as she went down the stairs, calling out, “You okay?”

Adrien's voice was loud. “You were right!”

“Well, yeah,” she agreed. “But what about?”

He broke his toe—or thought he did, at least.

“It's hard to tell because it's little,” he muttered. “But now I'm paranoid because of what you said earlier. You always seem to be right, somehow.”

And when he insisted that it would be ridiculous to go to the hospital—though Marinette had never broken a toe, and didn't know what to do in the situation—they eventually got into bed, so late in the night that her eyes were starting to droop while they were talking.

The small buzz she'd gotten from the drinks at the party had gone by that point, her stomach was still pleasantly full from the full, and she was happy from being so close to him.

It was a good feeling, overall.

“It feels stupid to say this, but—” Adrien cleared his throat. “Psychics aren't real, right? I mean, it's not something that can actually be explained. I'm not _trying_ to call you a fraud, but, like, everything you tell me seems to come true, and I'm starting to think I'm losing my mind.”

She tried not to laugh at that. “What?”

“It's weird!” he defended. “I don't know what to think.”

“Then, don't,” she advised. “What's there to worry about?”

“And you always...” Adrien trailed off, voice growing quieter with each word. “You do this weird thing and I can't stop thinking about it. Now that I've noticed it, I mean.”

She let out an audible breath. “You sound like you're giving me an intervention.”

“No, no!” he denied. “I'm not—I'm just... I don't know.”

“Hi, I don't know,” Marinette said, offering her hand. “I'm Marinette.”

He cracked a smile at that. “How dare you.”

“Sorry.” She grinned. “I couldn't resist.”

His voice was so quiet she could barely hear it. “Don't you find it... weird?”

“Not any more,” Marinette whispered back, adjusting how she was resting her head on the pillow. The light coming in from the window was enough to see his face vaguely, but she couldn't make out his entire expression. “As a kid? Oh, yes. For the longest time, I thought I was going mad.”

Adrien softly told her, “You always look above my head.”

She wetted her lips. “I do.”

It was the moment where it everything could be ruined, couldn't it? There had always been that nagging worry that others wouldn't believe her, but over the years, she'd shoved it to the side, embracing what she had and deciding not to care about it—

But she cared about him—about how he thought of her.

Him saying she was mad would be so much more hurtful than an old class-mate.

All he asked was, “Why?”

“That's how I know what's going to happen,” she admitted, closing her eyes so she couldn't faintly see his reaction. “It's—that's why I don't read palms or whatever. I never learned to because I don't need to.”

His voice was still barely audible. “But—how?”

“I don't really get it myself, not really,” Marinette confessed, throat starting to feel dry. But she wasn't panicking, her heart wasn't beating fast from nerves, and it was a good sign that she was still in bed with him. “But I see—I see stuff there? It's, like, floating.”

Instead of calling that a lie, he asked, “What do you see?”

“A few words,” she said. “A phrase, maybe, but it's never a full sentence. Most of the time, I don't fully understand the context, but I've learned to just... guess.”

Adrien repeated, “Words?”

“Yeah,” Marinette agreed.

“What did—what did it say today?” he questioned.

It was going well, wasn't it?

She swallowed.

“That you'd break your little toe,” she revealed. “It was specific about that.”

He focused on the latter response. “Is it not normally?”

“It depends,” she vaguely replied.

Persistent was a good way to describe him. “On?”

And as he shifted in the bed, causing his knee to brush against hers, he didn't pull back or flinch away. Instead, he reached out and ran a hand over her thigh, the movement natural and unforced.

She felt at ease with him.

“If I don't know someone,” she started, leaning into his touch. “The injury isn't normally listed—and it doesn't tell me the small stuff, you know? But the more time I spend with someone, the more... I start to know.”

“That sounds confusing,” he said.

Carefully, she replied, “You don't sound like you're going to call bullshit any time soon.”

“I mean, you've been right about a lot of things so far,” Adrien pointed out, taking her hand into his and softly intertwining their fingers. “Who am I to say you're wrong?”

“Someone sane,” she told him.

His laugh was quiet. “I'm as sane as you, Marinette.”

“Reassuring,” she replied dryly.

“So you just—you see floating words, is that it?” Adrien asked, curiosity clear in his voice. “Tell me if I'm getting any of this wrong.”

She squeezed his hand gently. “You're not.”

“Is there a theme to it, or something?” he questioned, shifting his head on the pillow until he was close enough for her to feel his breath. “Or do you just—see anything?”

“Luka says it's worst decisions,” she revealed. “But I—it's probably better to say it's, like, the worst things to happen to _you_ ; injuries, accidents, deaths, that kind of thing.”

He said to that, “Morbid.”

“A little,” she agreed. “But I'm used to that, kind of? I grew up with corpses, man.”

“That doesn't mean you should know how people die,” he replied, lifting their clasped hand up to his face to place a kiss to her knuckles. “That's—that's not something that should be on you.”

Her lips curled into a smile.

“It's not,” she assured him. “Trust me, I have nothing to do with any of this.”

“What do you mean?” he asked. “You're—you're literally seeing how people _die_. Why wouldn't it bother you?”

It was a topic that had taken years for her to come to terms with; something that she and Luka had fought about a few times, and her parents had sat her down to talk about with damp eyes.

Her smile didn't fall.

It was with confidence that she confessed, “Because it's not my fault.”

“I—I was never implying that—” Adrien tried to say.

“Adrien,” she interrupted, tone gentle and as soft as her hand against his. “I can't change anything I see. Trust me, I've tried. At this point, I've accepted that it's a party trick that just shows I know some things, that's all.”

He sucked in a sharp breath.

“I've tried,” she reiterated, wanting to get that point across. “It tore me up when I was younger, when people—people wouldn't turn up again. Once, my teacher didn't come back after I told her to watch her feet when climbing the stairs.”

“Marinette—”

She didn't give him a chance to talk. “She died from tripping over her cat.”

He continued, “ _Marinette_.”

Taking in a breath, she answered, “Yes?”

He didn't stop holding her hand. “I don't think you're mad.”

“Oh.” She exhaled. “That's—that's good.”

“I can't say I'm not sceptical,” he whispered. “But my broken toe's proof, yeah? Along with all the other stuff. I don't—I'm not going to blame you for it. I mean, you _did_ tell me that it would happen.”

She let out a laugh. “I did.”

“So, thanks for the heads up,” he murmured. “I appreciate it.”

“I'll tell you more,” she promised. “If you want to hear it.”

She could hear the smile in his voice. “I always want to hear you.”

-x-

Adrien was on a quest to comment on all of her videos.

“You're ridiculous,” she accused.

Instead of replying to that, he kissed her.

She didn't have any complaints.

After what had happened on his birthday, Marinette had a few doubts that he believed her, but when he'd woken up the next morning and asked her over breakfast whether he was going to break any other toes that day, he'd been so—casual about it.

It was almost a bit worrying how swimmingly he'd taken to it.

Adrien liked to go with the flow, she found out.

If a recipe messed up, he adapted and tried to overcome, selling it as something new if it was still presentable at the end (which was why his labels were handwritten with chalk, not printed), and if his plans were cancelled at the last minute, he tried to do something else, as he was already dressed.

It was something she admired about him, but not when he called in the early hours of the morning at the weekend, asking if she wanted to travel somewhere.

But she still liked him.

And with the routine of going over to his bakery for her lunch on the weekdays when her shop was open, it meant that he was appearing more at his work, too.

That was something Juleka told her in passing.

She wasn't going to mention it to him.

And when Luka had to travel for his work, Marinette was more than happy to extend the the invitation to Adrien for him to stay over.

“Luka can hear,” he'd hissed when they'd gotten into bed at hers before. “I can literally hear him throwing his clothes on the floor.”

“He misses the hamper,” she defended. “He's just not a very good shot.”

Adrien had looked at her incredulously. “That's not the point right now.”

“As long as you know he's better at other things, it's fine,” she told him.

It was a relationship of compromise; while he was fine with staying over when Luka was there, Adrien was terribly shy and didn't want their intimate moments to be overheard.

Marinette, in return, tried to care more about cooking.

It wasn't that she was terrible at it—she just didn't really put much effort in. The biscuits she baked to hand out weekly were the extent to her abilities; and that had been her mother's suggestion, and she quite enjoyed the routine she'd gotten into on Sundays.

But Adrien _liked_ food.

He was enthusiastic, liked flavours that complimented each other, and although he'd assured her that instant noodles were fine the first time he stayed over, she'd been embarrassed from the bare fridge.

She wanted to impress him.

“I care, okay?” Marinette said, feeling lame at the explanation. “I'm not—I've never really cared about fancy food, but you do.”

“I don't,” Adrien assured her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her into a hug. “I'm not, like, slumming it because we're not eating food that took _hours_ to cook. I'm not that picky.”

She muttered, “Yeah, sure.”

“For real,” he insisted. “I grew up with really good food, yeah, and I like to cook, but I'm not turning my nose up at everything else. Gosh, I do have my own stash of noodles, you know.”

With a sniff, she declared, “I don't believe you.”

“It's on the shelf you're too small to reach,” he teased. “I'm cool with anything, Marinette.”

“Cool,” she muttered.

“Come on.” He pressed a kiss to her temple, avoiding touching her hair. “I like what you cook. Have I ever left anything?”

Her response to that was, “It's not my fault you're a pig.”

He laughed. “For you, sure.”

“That's not as charming as you think it is,” she said.

To Adrien's displeasure, the next time he had a fancy dinner, it wasn't with her.

“I really don't want to go,” he groaned, pressing his palms into his eyes. “It's too—exhausting? If that's the right word. He's horrible to be around now.”

“Well,” Marinette started, uncertain as she reached out and tugged his hands away. “Why don't you call up and say that you're sick?”

He pulled a face. “Then he'd turn up at my work tomorrow.”

“What's stopping him from doing it today?” she asked.

“The promise of me going to dinner,” he revealed with a sigh. “It's like—I have to bribe him to keep him away, otherwise he'll barge in there and demand to talk to me. It's awful for business.”

For lack of a better response, she questioned. “Just for business?”

He cracked a smile at that.

“If you really have to go, I'll cheer you on,” Marinette promised. “I'll be your personal cheerleader.”

His grin grew wider. “Are you going to shake your pompoms at me?”

“Is that what the kids are calling them nowadays?” She winked. “I'll think about it.”

“This still sucks,” Adrien stated. “It means I have to dress up. Do you know how exhausting it is debating whether my shoes match the rest of my outfit?”

She patted his shoulder. “Life's hard for the rich, isn't it?”

He wrinkled his nose. “I wouldn't class myself as _that_.”

“I would,” she retorted. “You don't even flinch when ordering the most expensive thing at a restaurant.”

“It was nice!” Adrien defended. “And I was paying anyway! It's not like I ordered wine or anything—now _that's_ what I would consider a waste.”

She held her hands up in surrender. “If you're sure.”

“I'm feeling bullied right now,” he proclaimed. “You're mean to me.”

“My meanness is sending you running back into your father's arms, I see.”

He choked out a laugh. “Absolutely.”

“Well, I'll keep my phone nearby,” she assured him. “I'll send some memes or something. Look at them when you're bored.”

“That'll be the whole time,” Adrien said. “And phones are rude at the table.”

She rolled her eyes.

And when he went, he sent her a picture of the outside of the restaurant. Then, there was a blurry picture that followed that was accompanied by a lot of exclamation marks, all because his father had ordered wine for the two of them.

She laughed.

Two hours later, she got a text asking whether he could come over.

There wasn't any hesitation in her response.

When Adrien turned up at her door, she was momentarily surprised by his appearance. His hair had been pushed back with some kind of product, some strands escaping the hold and looking as though it was completely on purpose, and his clothes were much nicer and more formal than she'd ever seen him in.

“You look like a robot,” she proclaimed, poking his cheek.

His smile showed his dimples. “I feel like one.”

Even his shoes were shinier than normal.

“Do you always dress like this to see him?” Marinette asked, making the two of them something warm to drink. “Because I really do feel like a peasant in comparison right now. I should've worn my nice pyjamas.”

“These pyjamas are wonderful,” Adrien told her, complete with a appreciative glance towards her legs. “I'd rather see you in these than some fancy dress.”

She crossed her arms. “My dresses aren't good enough for you now, is that it?”

He beamed. “Pyjamas are way better.”

“You're right,” she said, giving in. “And they sure feel better.”

“Can't say I'd be opposed to you trying to grind on me at a club again, though,” he mused.

Marinette made an offended noise. “ _Trying_?”

He winked at her that time.

She shoved him without much force.

Luka was in his bedroom—headphones on and playing a video game, with his voice floating through sometimes as he spoke into his microphone—so that meant Adrien felt far too awkward to go any further than kissing, but cuddling him on the sofa was a nice experience.

“I'm wrinkling your shirt,” she pointed out, not bothering to move.

“Good,” Adrien said. “Wrinkle away my sins of the evening.”

She laughed. “Yeah, maybe don't phrase it like that.”

“You don't control me,” he replied petulantly. “I don't have to listen to you.”

Amused, she plainly answered, “Okay, buddy.”

He kissed the top of her head.

Marinette shuffled to get more comfortable, head resting against his shoulder, an arm wrapped around his stomach as she leaned into him. It wasn't awful, but it wasn't so wonderful-feeling that her eyes would start to droop and she'd fall asleep.

There had to be a reason that they were in the living room still, not in her bed.

She didn't want to push him to tell her immediately.

The coffee she'd made meant that she was in it for the long-haul.

“So,” Adrien started before taking a sip of his drink, stalling. “I might've doubted his ability to check the internet—well, no. A family friend showed him, and it went from there. Maybe I'm not wrong about him being bad at checking social media.”

“Okay,” Marinette said, waiting for him to say more.

But he didn't.

She had to prompt him with, “What did he see?”

Adrien grimaced. “You.”

“Excuse me?”

“I never—I didn't tell him I'm dating anyone,” he explained with a sigh. “It's not like I'm going to send him a text about that or something! I swear, I was going to tell him _eventually_. But, no, he saw some pictures from my birthday, so he's really offended that he had to find out from someone else.”

She sat up straight, collecting her mug from the table and looking at him patiently.

The best way to describe how he looked was frazzled. “He—he's absolutely ridiculous,” he ranted, glancing at her with wide eyes, talking fast. “He doesn't even consider _why_ I didn't tell him first! And now he's convinced you're someone unsavoury because I've hidden you away.”

Rather than get offended at that, Marinette mused, “I'd like to think I'm quite sweet.”

He patted her knee. “Very.”

“That doesn't feel sincere at all,” she mumbled. “He's mad, yeah? Is that normal?”

With a sigh, he confirmed, “Yeah. He used to get upset about all the little things, but—but he was never this bad when my mother was around, you know? She mellowed him down a bit.”

“How long has it been?” she quietly asked.

“Happened when I was—thirteen? But that's how long he's been a prick for, I guess.”

For lack of a better thing to say, she whispered, “Sorry to hear that.”

“It's like being an only parent turned him into this—really obnoxious person, if you get me? Like, I suddenly couldn't go over to any friend's houses without him talking to their parents for what seemed like _hours_ , and meals and shit all had to be approved.”

“Must've been hard for him,” she said.

Adrien scoffed. “Yeah, I get that, but he's just—Marinette, I wasn't allowed on a school trip once because he didn't want to risk other kids hitting me with their pillows overnight.”

She frowned. “What?”

“All because feathers make me sneeze!” he exclaimed, sounding incredulous.

It did sound ridiculous, but she didn't want to comment on that. Their relationship was still new, and she didn't feel like it was her place to remark on his father's behaviour—let alone when she hadn't even met him.

With that thought she asked, “Does he—did it sound like he wanted to meet me or something?”

He looked horrified at that.

Marinette winced. “No?”

“ _No_ ,” he insisted. “I—fuck, no, that came out wrong. He'll be completely down to meet you, but, like, he'd spend the whole evening demeaning you and calling your job bullshit. I don't want to put you through that.”

“I don't mind,” she quietly told him. “He's your father, right? I'll have to meet him eventually.”

Adrien shook his head. “We'll deal with that when we really have to.”

“You really are hiding me,” she said, a bit amused. “Isn't that a bit extreme?”

“Marinette,” he started, putting his hand back on her knee. “I mean this with the utmost sincerity. I really like you, but I don't think you like me enough to meet him.”

She tilted her head a bit. “Shouldn't I be the one to decide that?”

Adrien beamed. “No.”

She rolled her eyes.

-x-

When she mentioned about going home for the holidays to her parents, they asked her to extend the offer to Adrien. Ever since telling them of him, they were excited to hear more details; even more so when she admitted that he knew about her seeing certain things.

And so, when they travelled on the train to visit where she'd grown up, Adrien's foot was bouncing constantly, but she never told him off for it.

It was a little endearing to see that he was nervous to meet her parents.

“I want them to like me,” he muttered when she'd said that aloud. Adrien leaned closer to her, resting his head on her shoulders, the space for the two of them limited from their seats on the train. “I'm not going to be banished if I tell a bad joke, right?”

She laughed. “I would've banished you by now if that was the case.”

He bit her coat.

“Rude!” she accused.

The weather was cold enough to warrant them being wrapped up in scarves and gloves, but they were travelling light other than that. It was meant to be a weekend stay—to be there for the holiday, relaxing during their combined time off—so Marinette had offered to pack his belongings in her bag, making it easier for the two of them.

In return, Adrien had put their essentials in a backpack to carry around.

It was a nice system.

Her parents adored him.

She didn't expect anything less.

But seeing them usher him in, offering to take his coat, and delve straight into conversation without hesitation filled her with a warm feeling. That was intensified when it came time for dinner; she'd told them in passing about his job, and when he'd offered to help cook, her father excitedly invited him to join.

Later on, Adrien told her that he mostly talked, passing her father a few utensils.

“But it was nice,” he said, the smile on his lips meeting his eyes. “They're—your parents are great.”

She beamed.

Her bedroom was pink, had a few boxes with storage under the bed, but it was mostly the same as she had left it. It was dusted, freshly cleaned despite her telling them she could do it when she got there, and her bed was made with a new cushion in the middle of it that looked suspiciously like the ones on the sofa in the living room.

There was enough room for the two of them, but as with when Luka was in the apartment, Adrien felt too awkward to do anything more than kissing.

She completely understood.

“I am not having sex with you here,” she bluntly told him he opened up her bag, getting their belongings out.

Adrien almost choked. “What?”

“Before it comes up,” Marinette blurted. “Or—well, _you_ do, I guess.”

He turned to stare at her and let out a forced laugh.

She flashed him a peace sign.

Adrien cracked a smile.

“I'm wholesome and can't do anything wrong while we're here,” she proclaimed, pushing her hair over her shoulder. “An absolute angel.”

“Actually—”

Marinette cut him off with, “I'm not taking criticism right now.”

He laughed. “Really?”

“Yes.” She sniffed.

Fondness was clear in his tone. “Okay, angel.”

She cringed. “I don't like that at all.”

“But you're pure and innocent, right?” he teased. “It suits you.”

“Gross.”

Her parents loved him.

When they left, with her parents waving at them from car as they walked to the platform, she peeked to the side to see Adrien smiling, one hand stuffed in his pocket as the other held onto the strap of his backpack.

There was genuine happiness there.

And to know that it was because he enjoyed his time with her family—even when they got far too into telling him about their job, to which he encouraged them and asked to know more—made her feel warm.

She really, really liked him.

And it seemed he felt the same about her.

He leaned his head on her shoulder while they travelled.

She didn't move him when her arm started to go numb.

When she'd exchanged numbers with Alya and Nino, she hadn't expected to see them outside of meeting up with Adrien there. As nice as they'd been, it wasn't as though they'd instantly bonded and wanted to spend a lot of time together.

And that meant when she got an invite from Alya to get coffee together, she was surprised.

Adrien was really happy when she told him her plans for the following day.

It felt bad to only describe her as nice, but that was the best word Marinette could come up with for Alya.

Alya was full of smiles, witty comments, and was more than happy to open up and tell Marinette all the things she'd missed. From Adrien's horrendous fashion choices growing up, how he'd begged for a dog from his parents, even going as far as to make a presentation to convince them that it was a good idea.

And she learned a lot more about Alya, too.

“I don't really have that many friends to myself, you know?” Alya started, toying with a strand of curly hair, wrapping it around her finger as she spoke. “It's always—me and Nino as like a package deal since we've been together for so long.”

“I've never really dated anyone for long,” Marinette admitted, holding her cup with two hands. “My longest relationship is—I think it's four months? But I'm sort of a package deal with Luka. At least, that's how it feels whenever people we went to school with want to meet up.”

Alya laughed. “Yeah?”

“Even though he's older.” She shrugged. “We just—I'm not good with having a lot of friends? That sounds bad. I mean for more... getting in touch? I'm especially shit at responding to people, and I forget and it gets exhausting trying to juggle everything. I think the only reason I've still so close to Luka is because we live together.”

“You said that,” Alya started, trailing off with an uncertain expression. “You were at the club, right? Ages ago.”

“Oh.” Marinette was surprised she remembered that. “Yeah, with Lila.”

Alya took a sip of her drink. “You good friends with her?”

“Kind of,” she replied, not sure how to phrase it. “She's a spoiled rich kid who's got the same job as me. I think her plan was to intimidate me or something, but we ended up chatting instead.”

Alya licked her lips. “Right, you're—you do fortune telling, right?”

“Yes.” Marinette took a sip. “What about you?”

“Marketing shit, it doesn't really matter,” Alya explained with a wave of her hand. “Do you mind if I ask how you—well, do it?”

Her smile didn't reach her eyes. “Same as anyone else.”

Alya blinked. “That's not at all informative, thank you.”

She let out a laugh. “It's not that hard. It's just about reading people.”

“I can't even sit down and read a book,” Alya lamented.

“Sucks for you,” she replied, amused.

The subject shifted back to light-hearted things; talking about their favourite television shows, music that they liked, and childhood films that Alya had recently revisited and was baffled by why she'd adored them so much.

She was fun to be around.

It was Marinette that said, “We should do this again.”

And from the bright smile she got in return, it was clear that Alya thought the same.

She'd never been with someone long enough to be considered part of a pair, and from how Alya had told her, it sounded like Alya needed her own identity, too. As nice as it was to spend time together, it was important to have time apart.

Marinette knew that if she spent every last minute with Luka, she would've been fed up with him—and it was purely platonic between them.

Alya sent her a text a few minutes after they'd parted, thanking her.

When she returned home, Luka was there, tapping away on his laptop, settled down on the sofa with a blanket draped over him, and she purposely ruffled his hair on her way past.

He muttered something quietly under his breath.

She grinned.

-x-

Adrien started bringing her flowers.

At first, she'd been baffled by them, accepting them with surprise as he stepped into her store, but after they'd wilted the second time and he'd come the following day to replace them, a bouquet of different colours in his arms, she'd started to feel a bit giddy from seeing him with them.

“I like them,” Adrien said as his explanation. “And I like you. Plus, they brighten up the place a bit, don't they?”

She kissed him for that.

Marinette invested in a nice vase to display them in by the front door, making it so they were visible to anyone that walked in.

And when she went to his store, she saw that each table had a flower in a small milk glass bottle, sitting quaintly in the middle beside the other personal touches.

The flowers continued to match hers.

When it came time for Valentine's Day, Marinette was the one to buy flowers.

She bought ones that he had yet to get for her, picking them out in person instead of ordering online, and made signed the card herself while at the store.

With a text to Adrien, she confirmed that he was at work.

It was a little embarrassing to walk through the front door to be greeted by Juleka's raised eyebrows. Marinette grinned, pushing her hair off her face, and pointed towards the kitchen to ask permission to go in.

Juleka did a dramatic bow, gesturing for her to go through.

Marinette made sure to knock as she entered.

Adrien had flour on his face.

“Marinette,” he stated, surprised. “You're—are you early? Or am I just being stupid?”

“Early,” she confessed, swapping the bouquet over to her other hand. “I... wanted to give you this.”

For a moment, he seemed to struggle for what to say before he softly asked, “For me?”

“Yeah,” she confirmed, a bit bashful as she walked further into the room, awkwardly standing in the open space, unsure on where to put them.

There wasn't a lot of free space in the kitchen, and having flowers in there was certainly not something that should be done. There was always the small room where employees took their break, but it would surely take up too much space on the table.

“I didn't think this through properly,” Marinette blurted. “It's not—you shouldn't have them in here, right? I just—I know we didn't want to do anything big, but I... I wanted to do something nice for you.”

“No, no, don't apologise,” he hastily said, setting down the dough on the counter and wiping his hands on his apron. It only spread the flour further on him. “No one's ever—no one's ever given me flowers before.”

Her face felt hot. “Surprise.”

“Surprise,” he repeated, smile reaching his eyes. “You really got them for me?”

“Well, yeah,” she replied, watching as he tried to dust the flour off of him. “You're my valentine, right?”

He laughed. “Assuming, are you?”

She tilted her head. “I don't see you dating anyone else, so yes.”

“I wouldn't want to,” Adrien assured her, accepting the bouquet into his hands, leaning down to sniff them. “They're—thank you so much, Marinette. I love them.”

Instead of answering that, she shifted her feet. “Cool.”

To her amusement, Adrien made do by washing out a plastic milk bottle, filling it with water and placing it on the middle of the employee table.

“It'll have to do for now,” he stated, hands on his hips as he gazed at his handiwork. “Looks good, right?”

She couldn't hold back her laugh. “Sure.”

“Real good,” he agreed with a nod of his head. “I'll take them home later.”

“I should've come by later,” Marinette lamented, gesturing back to where he'd been working. “You're busy. I'm just getting in the way.”

Adrien didn't hesitate to close the distance between them, until they were almost standing chest-to-chest, and lean down to press a kiss to her lips. “You're never in the way.”

“I am right now,” she corrected. “And you've still got flour on you—so, please, step away from me.”

“What's that?” Adrien asked, pulling her into a dramatic hug, squishing her against his chest. “You want me even closer?”

Her words were muffled as she muttered, “You're the worst.”

He sounded gleeful. “I love you, too.”

“I'm not feeling the love right now,” she retorted.

“Well, if you got here when you're supposed to, you'd smell all the love,” he chastised, reaching out and tapping the end of her nose lightly. “I'm making something for you.”

She blinked. “For real?”

“Absolutely.” Adrien's smile showed his teeth. “You love to eat, and I love to cook. That might as well be a match made in heaven, right?”

Leaning to the side to see where he'd been working, Marinette slowly asked for clarification, “You're making... stuff for me?”

He sounded amused. “Yes.”

Her eyes felt hot. “That's—that's so _nice_.”

“It still would've been nicer if you came here at the right time,” he teased. “But thank you for the flowers, really. I can finally cross being loved enough to get flowers off my bucket list.”

Marinette sniffed. “Arrogant, aren't you?”

“Only for you.” Adrien winked.

“You're ridiculous,” she accused, but it was filled with laughter as she pushed her hair back over her shoulder. “But, seriously. I can come back if you don't want me here, like, contaminating everything.”

Adrien laughed. “You can stay, if you want to.”

“But is that _allowed_?”

He raised his eyebrows. “I'd allow you to do anything.”

“Stop flirting with me!” Marinette retorted, jabbing a finger in his direction. “I'm already your valentine, what more do you want?”

The smile that stretched across his lips was wide. “Oh, a lot.”

She raised her middle finger instead.

He threw his head back and laughed.

With a glance towards the door, Marinette was worried that they were being too loud.

“You're welcome to stay,” Adrien offered as he ducked his head down to press a kiss to her cheek. “But I need to wash my hands first. I can't have your germs getting in the food, right?”

She countered, “Well, if I'm the one eating it, it's fine, right?”

Instead of answering that, he patted the top of her head on his way paqqst to the sink.

Marinette ended up sat on the chair by his desk, sitting with her coat off as she peered at what he was doing. He'd said that it was safe for her to get closer, but she didn't want to get in the way.

It helped that the kitchen only had the two of them in it at that time; no employee having their break just yet, so she wasn't embarrassed to speak freely with him.

“You can always ask Juleka to make you a drink,” he reminded her.

“Maybe later,” she replied. “She's going to tease me, I just know it.”

He told her, “I'd tease you, too.”

“That's mean,” Marinette muttered. “You're mean to me.”

“I'm painstakingly making you food that's going to be far prettier than it tastes,” he pointed out. “I think I have every right to be mean to you.”

“Okay, you can bully me if you feed me,” she said with a dramatic sigh. “I give in. You've convinced me.”

There was already more flour on his clothing. “That didn't take much.”

“What can I say?” Marinette mused. “I'm easy.”

He snickered.

Juleka really did tease her when she poked her head out, quietly asking whether she was busy.

-x-

“Want to gorge on more overpriced food?” Adrien asked.

She made a show of contemplating her answer.

“Because the queues don't seem that long right now,” he pointed out, gesturing with his hand that wasn't holding her to the few options in front of them. “Anything you fancy there?”

“Maybe,” Marinette said. “But if I eat so soon, I might throw up.”

“Oh, true,” he agreed, amusement clear in his voice. “Let's skip this for now and come back later?”

She leaned into him. “Sounds like a plan.”

The amusement park was busy, having only just opened for the spring, but she'd thought accordingly and brought an umbrella for the two of them to share. However, she hadn't factored in how tall Adrien was; if she was the one to hold it, she had to raise her arm high to make it comfortable for him, but then it was awkward for her.

Adrien's compromise was to buy the clear raincoats that were in the gift shop.

After her shoulder started to get wet, she agreed.

They looked ridiculous, but they were together.

“We could've got you a headband,” he said.

“I'm scared it'll fall off!” she replied, shooting down the idea again. “I'll be far too paranoid about it. Besides, I happen to like my raincoat now, thank you.”

He laughed, wrapping an arm around her shoulder to pull her in close as they slowly walked in a different direction. “ _Now_ you do?”

“It's grown on me,” Marinette stated, holding out her arms. “Even if it's too big for me.”

With a grin, he told her, “You look cute.”

“I always do.” She made a show off pushing her hair behind her shoulder. “But thank you.”

Along with the sleepovers that he was denied growing up, he'd never been allowed on the amusement park trips at the end of the year when he was older. They'd decided to remedy that fact when the weather cleared up a bit—not enough to not warrant the rain gear, though—and how happy he was leading up to it when she'd told him her plan was more than enough to make her happy.

It just meant that she didn't want to damper his good mood.

“That one looks cool!” Adrien exclaimed, turning to look at her with wide eyes as he pointed up at the roller coaster. “Want to go on it?”

As with all the other ones, she said, “Sure.”

Her stomach felt tight afterwards.

Adrien was visibly excited, swinging their intertwined hands as they walked through the exit of the ride, hair a mess and his raincoat crooked.

“It was so _good_.” He sounded enthralled. “Even better than the last one, right? I really liked the sound effects.”

“Oh, I—” Marinette started, words coming out as wobbly as she felt as they walked. “I liked the first one. Yeah.”

Adrien was incredulous. “The first one?”

“Yeah,” she confirmed, sticking to her answer. “It—it had a good vibe. Yeah.”

“A good vibe,” he repeated, dubious.

Their pace slowed to a stop by one of the many maps that were placed around the park. They'd been through one section already, trying to avoid the crowds, but as it neared midday that was proving to be hard from the sudden amount of guests. It was to be expected that they weren't the only ones that had the idea to come during the first week of opening.

When Adrien pointed out a ride he wanted to go in, Marinette mustered up the enthusiasm to say, “Sure, let's go.”

After they got off, she threw up.

“Marinette!” he exclaimed, a hand rubbing her back as he used his other to brush her hair away from her face. “Are you—are you okay?”

It was hard to swallow.

“Yeah,” she coughed out, wiping her mouth with the back of her hair. “Fine. I'm great.”

He fished out a water bottle from his backpack, offering it to her with concern clear across his expression.

Marinette gave him a weak smile.

They ended up sitting down on a nearby bench, with Adrien fretting over her, far more concerned about her stomach than she was.

“I'm not sick,” she assured him, shifting her weight as she clutched the bottle in both hands. “I'm not good with rides.”

His eyebrows knitted together. “But we—”

“I know,” she interrupted, smile not reaching her eyes. “Surprise?”

“You should've said!” Adrien sounded as frazzled as he looked. “We didn't—we could've gone on the more tame stuff.”

When it had come up in conversation that Adrien had barely been to amusement parks as a kid, it was decided that they'd go together. His obvious excitement for the rides was infectious, and she hadn't wanted to squash that by making him ride them alone.

She was glad that she'd managed not to throw up until then, at least.

“I wanted to go on them with you,” Marinette told him, honest.

It wasn't a lie.

He huffed. “Not good enough.”

“I'll be fine!” she insisted. “I just—I might need something to settle my stomach, maybe? But then we can go to the next one.”

Adrien shook his head. “Yeah, we're not doing that—”

“I want to!” she exclaimed, lifting up the water bottle in a way that was supposed to be threatening. “Don't make me use this on you.”

His hand darted out and stole it from hers without any resistance.

She sighed loudly. “That was mean.”

“You can't hurt me when I'm the one looking after you,” he chastised, putting his hands on his hips. “I think there might be a few rides you might make the height limit off. They'll be tame, right?”

She muttered, “I can still kick you.”

Adrien laughed. “I was kidding.”

“I'm sure.”

“I was!” he repeated, amusement clear in his voice. “I'm not letting you out of my sight. I won't be able to see you over the crowds when you blend in so well.”

Marinette glowered at him. “With every word, I want to hurt you more.”

He patted her head. “There, there.”

“This is supposed to be a date,” she pointed out, slapping his hand away. “At this rate, it'll be our last one.”

“We'll be that couple that don't even class them as dates any more,” he mused. “That's so cute.”

“You're the worst,” she proclaimed.

He winked. “Save that for when we're in bed later.”

Marinette countered, “That's a bit presumptuous, don't you think?”

“Luka already text me to say he's gone for the night,” he reminded her. “You can't kick me out now. I've got my heart set on sleeping with you.”

“Beside me,” she corrected. “You're being far too rude to get anything more from me.”

With a grin, he asked, “What if I buy you food?”

“Are you trying to buy your way into my pants?” she questioned, raising her eyebrows. “Because that's a great idea. I have no complaints about it.”

He offered, “I'll buy you anything you want if you go on the teacups with me.”

“Okay,” Marinette agreed. “But only if we go slow. I might throw up again otherwise.”

Adrien asked, “That bad?”

She scuffed her shoe against the floor. “It goes really fast, okay?”

“Okay, okay,” he said, offering a hand out to help her up. “I'll let you be in control. How does that sound?”

“Really good,” she admitted, smile reaching her eyes. “For once, I'll do all the hard work.”

He laughed. “What a reward for you.”

And as she accepted his hand to stand up, Marinette told him, “You're going to trip at some point, by the way.”

“I am?” he asked, surprised.

“These jeans are going to be ripped, too,” she said, gesturing to where the knees were covered. “Sorry, all your jeans are going to be edgy now.”

His sigh was exaggerated. “It's my fate to be fashionable, I guess.”

-x-

For Luka's birthday, Adrien insisted on making him a cake.

Marinette hadn't given it much thought until she'd received a picture from him, complete with a three-tiered cake that was in the process of being iced. Adrien said that it needed to be a chilled for a while until he could complete it, so he was passing the time by asking her to decide what he should make to sell at his store.

Her response was to call him instead.

“I'll pay!” Marinette said as soon as he'd answered the phone.

Adrien's laugh came through the speaker. “It's my present to him, you can't pay for it.”

“I feel like I have to if it looks like that,” she protested. “It's—you didn't have to. That looks like so much work.”

“It's fun,” he assured her. “I don't often get the excuse to do what I want on a cake, you know? Not the ones I sell out front, at least. Plus, I know that he'll like it for sure, so I won't have to worry about what to get him forever.”

She breathed out loudly. “He doesn't deserve that much of your time.”

He snickered. “You're so mean to him.”

“I'm serious!”

“You'll get your own birthday cake eventually,” he teased. “Don't be jealous.”

“That's not it at all,” she spluttered.

“There, there,” he cooed. “I still love you. But I need to repay Luka for all the inside information he's given me about you.”

She made a disapproving noise. “He's done no such thing.”

“That's what you think,” Adrien said, sounding close to singing.

“I'm hanging up,” she proclaimed.

“Okay,” he agreed with protesting. “I do need to get back to work, but thanks for letting me hear your voice.”

She sniffed. “I hate you.”

“I love you, too, babe,” he teased.

She hung up.

There was no party for Luka's birthday.

Instead, their apartment felt full to the brim with the few guests they'd invited over; Juleka and her girlfriend, Adrien, Alya and Nino, and a few of Luka's co-workers that were close enough to him to be considered friends.

Luka was terrible with surprises, so he was aware that people were coming over.

He was overwhelmed and didn't know what to say when Adrien showed him his cake, staring at him with wide eyes at first.

Adrien had grinned and put a hand on Luka's shoulder, simply saying, “You're welcome.”

Luka smiled right back.

It was still nice to see that they got along.

The music was kept low to be respectful to the neighbours, and there was only a little bit of alcohol supplied. Luka had work the next morning, and it was decided that if he couldn't drink, he shouldn't have to care for everyone else.

As always, there were pictures taken. Marinette had quite the collection of pictures with Adrien by that point, along with their friends, but she'd had yet to pick one out to print and frame.

And with more pictures posted online, another common occurrence happened.

The following morning, she woke up to the sound of Adrien's cell phone chiming.

Beside her, he grumbled, reaching for it. And as soon as he saw the name on his screen, he turned it on silent and shoved it underneath his pillow, closing his eyes and stubbornly trying to go back to sleep.

She didn't have to ask to know that it was his father.

They'd been dating for five months at that point, and in that time, he'd met her parents three times. It was clear that they adored him—going as far as to demand for her to invite him over when they were driving to visit her—and she couldn't have been any happier with that turn of events.

Adrien's father still hadn't met her.

He didn't want it to happen.

And yet, he continued to go to the odd meals with him; always somewhere public, a brief meeting that lasted an hour or two, and then their contact was very limited.

It made no sense to her.

She couldn't imagine having such a relationship with her parents, but it wasn't her place to judge him. He'd only confessed snippets to her—surely the worst parts—and she hadn't been told the whole story.

For all she knew, they were both in the wrong.

She wasn't going to suggest that, though.

As long as he was happy, she wasn't going to interfere.

Even if it meant dealing with his father bothering him every time a picture of the two of them was posted online.

The only person she confided in about Adrien was Luka.

Luka dealt with all her whining; her rants about particularly annoying clients, awkwardly navigating her love-life, and her general troubles. He'd been there for years, giving her advice, helping to guide her through the best he could. When they were growing up, he proved to be extremely helpful as he was older, and had already gone through applying to colleges and trying to sort out his future.

He might as well have been her brother at that point.

It sure felt like it.

They were close—so much more than when they'd been kids. Marinette knew that she could come to him with anything.

Luka had seen her worst moments, and instead of laughing at her, he always tried to make it better.

She hoped she was as good to him as he was to her.

In contrast, she didn't go to Lila with her problems.

That was a lot about Lila that she didn't know. They were friends, sure, but not the type where Marinette would reach out to her when she was feeling sad, hoping to be cheered up.

The first time she heard from Lila for two weeks, it was to Lila proclaiming over text that she'd gotten a new job.

Baffled, Marinette had asked her what she meant.

The reply was a picture of a sign indicating that Lila's shop was for sale.

It was two days later that they arranged to have lunch.

Marinette flipped the sign to indicate that she was out for her break, locking the door behind her, before trekking down the street to a nearby diner. It was one of the pricier ones, but that was normal for Lila.

The first thought when she sat down at the table was that Lila's hair looked shinier than usual.

She squinted. “Did you just get your hair done?”

Lila struck a pose, smugness radiating from her. “It looks good, right?”

With a glance above her, it showed that there wasn't anything life-threatening in her future.

“You're jobless, are you not?” Marinette questioned, setting her bag down on the floor and placing her coat on the back of her chair. “You're supposed to be saving your pennies, not having a self-care day.”

The response she got to that was a laugh.

“What happened?” she asked, quiet and concern becoming apparent. “You're—you're closing up?”

For as long as they'd met, they'd been the worst rivals. Their relationship couldn't even be classed as that; but they were both a niche business on the same street, and customers liked to gossip and try and compare them.

Marinette had heard less than stellar things about Lila's practice.

But then again, that was bound to happen when it was barely open.

It was never meant to last long with Lila's business ethic.

“I'm bored,” Lila simply said, tapping her freshly manicured nails against the table. “I'm flighty.”

Marinette blinked. “Right.”

“My mother wants me to try out for a specific job, so I might as well do that,” was the explanation she got. “It's half an hour away, thankfully. I won't have to move.”

“Is it what you want to do?” she asked.

Lila laughed. “I don't want to do anything.”

“You—what?” she blurted out, a bit incredulous from the response.

“As long as I don't have to do much, I really don't care,” Lila explained, reaching up and tucking some hair behind her ear. “My parents are rich. I'm rich.”

“That's... great?” It came out sounding like a question. “You've told me this before, but it sounds boring.”

“Not if you live the right way.” Lila's smile showed her teeth. “You're just not that adventurous.”

As a whole, Lila was strange. They weren't the closest of friends—hell, Marinette didn't even know when her birthday was—but that didn't mean that Marinette was unaware of the social circles that Lila inserted herself in.

The one time she'd met them while going out with Lila was enough to put her off a second time.

“Okay,” she replied. “As long as it makes you happy.”

Lila's smile widened. “Good answer.”

“You're not selling the store to give me another rival, are you?” she joked. “I'm already close to being broke as it is.”

“Don't be stupid,” Lila chastised. “You did that stupid wedding gig last week, didn't you?”

“I did,” she confirmed. “Are you stalking me? I never told you this.”

“They reached out to me first,” Lila haughtily replied. “You're lucky I didn't take them up on it.”

She raised her eyebrows. “I have to thank you for all my success?”

“Absolutely all of it,” Lila confirmed. “Without me, you'd have no one.”

“That doesn't sound right, but thank you,” she said.

-x-

She was the one watering the plants on Adrien's porch.

The small garden in the back wasn't well cared for—not when he didn't know what to do with it—but he had a few succulents scattered around his home, soaking in the sun by the windows, and she'd convinced him to invest in a few potted plants for his doorstep to liven up the place.

His home was nice, but it was clear he'd put more personal touches into his store than where he slept.

It made sense, of course; Marinette did the same with hers, but she'd been living with Luka for so long that they'd eventually splurged on a nice sofa, even buying nice coasters that were definitely too expensive for what they were worth.

But they wanted them, so they got them.

“I haven't been living here long,” Adrien admitted. “It—it was kind of spur of the moment? I mean, I'd been looking for a place to live, but getting a house to myself seemed a bit extreme?”

“It's a nice place,” Marinette remarked. “If you can afford it, why not?”

He rubbed his neck. “It isn't too much?”

“Who's to say what that even means?” she replied.

He jabbed her with his elbow for that. “Be serious. Do you think I'm stupid living here?”

“I think you're stupid all the time,” she fondly told him, patting his arm. “You're awfully self-conscious about where you live, you know?”

Adrien huffed. “A bit.”

“You're fine,” she assured him. “If you had, like, a pool and other shit, I'd have to say you're mad. But you have two bedrooms to yourself—so what?”

“I don't sleep in both!” he protested. “One doesn't even have a bed yet.”

Instead of teasing him further, she questioned, “Where did you live before this?”

“With my father,” he confessed, running a hand through his hair. “It—it wasn't a very good environment, but I didn't—it felt mean to leave him by himself. But he—he made me want to leave almost _daily_.”

Knowing that it was a sensitive topic—one he didn't like to talk about, unlike reminiscing about his mother—she asked, “When are you seeing him next?”

His expression soured. “He wants to meet up next week.”

“But it keeps him from parking outside your work, right?” she reminded him, trying to see the bright side of the situation. “As long as he's not stalking you, it'll be fine.”

Adrien snorted. “It sure doesn't feel fine when all he does is complain at me. It's just—I don't... like him. I know I should, but I—I don't.”

“Not like I have much experience on this,” Marinette started, nervously tucking some hair behind her ear. “But you—you don't always have to like your family, right? That's a thing. I'm _very_ sure it's a thing.”

For a moment, Adrien just looked at her before he let out a laugh that was filled with fondness. “It is a thing.”

“Oh,” she said. “That's... good.”

“You're good,” he whispered, taking her hand into his gently. “You're more than good, you know? I really don't deserve you.”

“Good is all you can say?” she asked, leaning into him and resting her head on his shoulder. “That's pretty lacking, don't you think?”

“Want me to wax poetry about you?” Adrien offered, adjusting how he was sitting to make it more comfortable for her. “Because I absolutely will.”

She hummed. “Got experience in that, have you?”

“I did get top marks in my lessons,” he told her. “Aced my poetry exam.”

“Brag some more, I'm feeling hot and bothered from your dedication to your grades,” she encouraged, amused. “How did you do on everything else?”

The arm that she'd been leaning on was wrapped around her waist, so she was leaning more onto his chest. “About the same,” he answered softly. “I kind of focused on my studies instead of everything else. My life might've been melting down, but my grades didn't reflect that, somehow.”

She hadn't meant for the conversation to steer that way.

“Mine were pretty average, I think,” she announced. “Maybe above-average, I don't know. I didn't fail anything—that's for sure—but I didn't get top marks for anything.”

“Does that make me the smart one?” he teased.

She laughed. “Not when I saw you put the milk in the dishwasher earlier.”

“They're right next to each other!” he exclaimed, but there wasn't any offence taken. “It—it happens sometimes.”

Marinette asked, “Does it?”

“I've seen you do stupid things, too,” he pointed out, tightening his arm around her for a moment. “A lot of them, actually. Do you want me to recite them?”

“I'd rather not hear it, thank you,” she grumbled, words muffled as she turned her head further into his chest. “You're supposed to love me.”

And when he laughed, she could feel it. “Supposed to?”

“This doesn't feel very loving.”

“I think this is the definition,” he countered. “Loving someone for their faults is good, isn't it? If I ran away the first time you annoyed me, we wouldn't be together.”

She made a noise of disapproval. “I annoy you, do I?”

“Terribly,” Adrien confirmed, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “You just won't get out of my head. I'm haunted by you.”

She huffed. “I don't want your poetry!”

“Sorry, sorry.” He laughed. “But I really do love you.”

“As you should,” Marinette mumbled, not lifting her head up from where it probably looked like she was trying to suffocate herself in his chest. “I'm adorable and deserve to be appreciated.”

Adrien didn't protest that. “Yes, you are.”

“That didn't sound sincere at all,” she muttered.

“You're wonderful,” he assured her, adjusting their position so he was more slumped against the arm of the sofa, her lounging onto him comfortably. “And I think I don't deserve you every single day.”

Her chest felt warm. “What are you after?”

“Nothing,” Adrien stated, honest. “I've got everything I want right now, but thanks for asking.”

There were times where he was so sincere and straight-forward, honest with his feelings in a way that she could only aspire to be, that really did make her feel treasured. He seemed to have no problems putting his feelings into words, but when they were around others—or within hearing distance—he clammed up with shyness, not knowing how to express it properly with an audience.

Even if that audience was Luka through the walls.

“I love you, too,” she whispered.

She could hear his intake of breath, but he didn't say anything.

He didn't have to.

There wasn't some massive shift in their relationship; nothing really changed after they'd said that they loved each other sincerely, not just in jest in conversation.

Marinette continued to visit his bakery for lunch, often sitting by his desk in the kitchen while he continued to work. She paid for her drink no matter who served her—making sure to put it in the tip jar—and the routine stayed the same.

She tried to good something that required a recipe, more care than shoving what she had in the fridge in the pan, when he was round hers for dinner, but it wasn't every night. Adrien was still insistent that he didn't need for her to go all out because he was accustomed to better food, but she enjoyed experimenting.

But she didn't dare venture into baking, not when he was so experienced at that.

While she was sure that he wouldn't laugh at her attempts, she wanted to avoid that. She wasn't good at accepting criticism.

Adrien's father continued to message him, causing Adrien's mood to plummet whenever his name appeared on the screen. It was a tradition by then; she wondered why Adrien hadn't given him his own ringtone, just so he wouldn't be so visibly disappointed when he unlocked his phone.

And when he said that his father was pestering him to let her come along to their dinner, she reminded him, “I really don't mind.”

It didn't seem that bad.

Adrien had hit it off wonderfully with her own parents—so, surely, it wouldn't look too horrible in comparison.

It took two days to convince him.

Adrien looked more stressed than she'd seen him before as they drove across the city to the restaurant. Although him and his father lived locally, she found out that his father preferred high-quality meals, tending not to visit the same place twice if it was disappointing the previous time.

And that was why they drove for half an hour.

Although she'd told her not to put too much thought into what she was wearing—as it wouldn't sway his father's opinion on her—she still dressed nicely.

She even curled her hair a little.

His expression had softened when he saw her. “You look beautiful.”

Marinette pretended to shoot him with her fingers. “You bet I do.”

He laughed.

The closer they got, the more Adrien grew agitated and nervous. He was tapping his fingers on the steering wheel, jittery, running his hands through his hair, ruining the style he'd spent a while putting it into.

She didn't know how to comfort him.

It seemed to help to get him to talk, though.

“Please, don't take anything he says to heart,” Adrien rushed out, talking quickly. “He—he thinks he has my best interests at heart, so he'll probably be... rude. But that's how he's always been. I'm not trying to make excuses for him, I swear. I'm well aware that he's a prick.”

“As long as he's not rude to you,” she quietly replied.

“Even then,” he said. “He—my mother left some stuff behind for me, but I... I haven't gotten it yet. I really don't want to cut ties with him and never get it.”

It wasn't her place to ask whether it was worth it.

She reassured him, “I'm sure he's not that bad.”

There wasn't any humour in his laugh.

And when they were walking to the restaurant, Adrien was walking slower than usual—even slower than when he lowered his pace for her.

She didn't call him out on it.

“Are you sure about this?” Adrien asked, yet again. “I could always say that you couldn't make it. Like I always do.”

“I'm sure,” she confirmed. “I dressed up and everything. You should be thankful that I'm out of my pyjamas and treat me to a nice meal.”

He grimaced. “He'll be the one paying.”

“Small detail,” she said, brushing it off. “Instead of getting into a glaring match with your father, you can always turn to the side and stare at me. I am wonderful to look at, after all.”

Adrien cracked a smile at that. “You are.”

“I am,” Marinette confirmed, winking at him. “Now, come on. Let's go meet your father, shall we?”

It became very apparent when they sat down across from a man with spectacles that she didn't even know his name.

“Nice of you to arrive on time, son,” the older man greeted, one neutral and no outward emotions showing on his face. It was hard to tell whether it was a jab or not. “And I see you've brought a guest this time. This is... Marinette, is it not?”

There wasn't anything terribly wrong in his father's future; nothing life-threatening, or that would ripple and cause problems for Adrien, not from what she could tell.

A glance to the side showed Adrien scowling.

“I—yes,” Marinette interjected with her voice cracking from nerves before Adrien could say anything. “That's me, Marinette. It's nice to finally meet you.”

The smile she received didn't meet his eyes. “Yes, finally.”

How was she supposed to awkwardly ask for his _name—_

“I'm sure you weren't waiting long,” Adrien said, shrugging out of his jacket and placing it on the back of his chair. “Otherwise you'd be frowning even more.”

“You're in a pleasant mood,” his father remarked.

“Oh, absolutely,” he confirmed, putting his elbows on the table and resting his chin on his hands. “It's always fun to come out here to see you. The highlight of my day, really.”

It was strange seeing Adrien be so—

So _petty_.

He was nothing like that normally.

A waiter came by to give each of them a menu, asking whether they'd like a minute to decide on drinks. Wisely, none of them chose something alcoholic.

“So,” Marinette started, a bit louder than necessary. “You're... a dentist, right?”

“Yes, I am,” his father said, leaving it at that.

As she didn't know how to respond to that, she glanced at Adrien, but all he could offer her was a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

Much like his father's hadn't.

There was bound to be some similarities between them, but when they were sat across from each other, Marinette couldn't see many. Their hair colours were different, the shape of their faces, and she doubted she'd notice anything unless she saw a younger picture of his father.

But that didn't seem to be very possible at that moment.

Adrien was more civil after that, thankfully.

“How are you, father?” he asked, almost sounding like he wanted to be there.

“Well,” was the reply he got. “And you?”

“Fine, I guess,” Adrien replied. “I might need to hire someone else to bake at work, so I can have a day off.”

It wasn't news to her, but evidently, it was to his father.

“It's going... well?”

“Really good, yeah,” Adrien confirmed.

“Yes,” his father corrected. “Not yeah, Adrien. Do remember your manners.”

That was certainly saying something when Adrien had his elbows on the table still—surely, that warranted a reprimand, too.

Adrien didn't look bothered by the criticism, though. “Really, really good,” he reiterated. “I thought it would only be average because of the location, but I—it's going well, yeah.”

“That's... good.” The reply was clipped. “I'm proud of you, Adrien.”

Adrien didn't look happy at that. Instead, he stood a sip of his drink, avoiding having to answer that.

Marinette felt horribly out of place.

Then, his father turned his gaze to her. “And what is it that you do for a living, Marinette?”

At least he was getting her name right, and he wasn't looking at her as though she was a speck of dirt.

Adrien had warned her that he'd be rude about her job.

So, it was because of that that she said, “I help people with their life decisions; kind of like a counsellor, I guess.”

“You're good with people, then,” his father remarked. “That's something my son and I don't have in common.”

And what was she supposed to say to _that_?

“Well, I barely take after you,” Adrien pointed out.

The atmosphere was terribly awkward.

Then, the waiter came by to take their orders. The small talk that continued while they waited for their meal was just as forced; with Adrien trying to send her reassuring smiles—that still didn't reach his eyes—and the topics become stilted when it was clear no one knew what to say.

They weren't fighting, which was good, but that didn't mean it was great.

Adrien was loosened up a bit since they'd first arrived—had stopped being as petty—but that didn't mean that he looked comfortable.

The only time he relaxed was when his father excused himself for a moment to answer a phone call outside.

“I'm so sorry,” Adrien said, leaning over and putting his head on her shoulder. “We can always bail out, remember. I'm fine taking the brunt of his rudeness.”

“He's not that bad,” she pointed out. “But, well, Adrien—”

He picked up on her stuttering. “What is it?”

Her face felt hot as she admitted, “You never told me his name.”

“I—didn't?” Adrien sounded bewildered. And as he sat upright, he stared at her for a moment before bursting out into laughter. “Oh, I'm so sorry! It's—he's Gabriel. Gabriel Agreste.”

“Gabriel,” she repeated. “Right.”

“I had no idea,” he said through his laughter. “Why didn't you say anything?”

“I didn't realise until I was literally staring him in the face!” she blurted.

The smile didn't disappear. “I'm sorry.”

“I don't think you are,” she muttered, sulking.

“I love you, idiot,” Adrien cooed, reaching out and tapping the end of her nose. “I won't hold it against you for long.”

She looked at him dubiously.

He laughed. “I said for long!”

“How about not at all?” Marinette grumbled. “We're wiping this from our memories. I was never here, and I definitely never saw your temper tantrum at the beginning there.”

The top of his ears grew pink. “I wasn't _that_ bad.”

“Sweetheart, you looked like a rebellious teenager,” she teased.

Adrien huffed. “It's not my fault I don't look my age.”

“That really wasn't the point I was trying to make.”

He batted his eyelashes. “I only hear compliments from you.”

Instead of replying, Marinette glared as she reached out and took a sip of her drink, stealing his tactic from earlier.

His laugh was wonderful to hear.

And it was then that Gabriel returned, he seemed to stop for a moment from where he was standing within hearing distance—behind Adrien, out of eyesight—before recovering his composure and coming back to sit down.

She wondered when he'd last heard his son laugh like that.

Adrien's expression didn't immediately shut down at the sight of him either.

They didn't order dessert.

And just as Adrien had said, Gabriel rejected any offers for them to pay for it. Marinette did slip some cash down for the tip when he wasn't looking, though.

It wasn't a wholly terribly experience.

If anything, it was a glance into Adrien's late childhood; and if their interactions were any indication, neither him or Gabriel knew how to interact with each other properly.

She was just glad that it didn't result in a shouting match as she'd feared about a few times.

When they gathered their belongings, ready to leave, Marinette worked up the courage to hold her hand out for Gabriel to shake as she said, “It was nice to meet you, sir.”

There was a beat of silence.

She wondered whether she'd made the wrong choice.

“And I, you,” Gabriel stated, shaking her hand without too much force. There was a small smile on his lips. “I admit, I was a tad concerned about meeting you, but you've exceeded my expectations.”

It was a choice not to be offended at that.

“I'm glad,” was what she said to that instead.

The hand fell back down to his side. “Until next time, son.”

“Okay,” Adrien replied, sounding a bit bewildered. “I—yeah. See you.”

“You're welcome to join us, Marinette,” Gabriel stated, extending the vague invitation to her. “I will not be offended if you wish not to, however.”

She blinked. “I-I'd be happy to.”

His smile almost reached his eyes. “Wonderful.”

And with that, Gabriel was walking off in the opposite direction to his car.

Surprised at the interaction, she turned towards Adrien to try and understand whether the reaction she'd gotten was good, she was greeted with his eyebrows furrowed as he looked at his father leaving.

“So,” she started, clearing her throat. “Does this mean I passed the girlfriend inspection or what?”

“You—yeah,” Adrien lamely replied. “You did.”

She linked their arms together. “Want to go get dessert somewhere? I'm not really full up after that.”

“Sure.” His expression softened. “That sounds nice.”

Marinette beamed.

-x-

As it turned out, Gabriel hadn't liked any of Adrien's previous girlfriends.

Marinette wasn't sure what she'd done right, but she wasn't going to question it.

An hour or so after they'd left the restaurant, he'd received a text from his father, stating that he'd had a nice time, and that it was wonderful to meet her.

Adrien kept teasing her that she'd called Gabriel sir at all.

“I was nervous,” she defended, face feeling hot. “It—it's rude to just call him by his name, isn't it? It's not like he ever said I could!”

He continued being amused.

And with their introduction, it meant that Gabriel didn't keep hounding his son to meet her whenever a picture of the two of them was posted online.

However, that didn't mean the messages _stopped_.

The first time she saw Adrien looked at his phone with an odd expression, she'd asked, “What's up?”

He showed her the text from his father, stating that the two of them looked happy together.

“That's good, right?” she asked, tilting her head. “He's not—he's not mad that he hasn't met me now.”

“It's weird,” Adrien insisted, locking the device and putting it on the table. “He's never—that's never been a thing before. He's never been exactly complimentary about who I was dating before.”

“Don't question it, then,” she advised with a smile. “It's _good_. Let's not jinx it.”

His shoulders relaxed. “You're right.”

“Of course I am.” She sniffed. “I'm smarter than you.”

“I don't know about that,” he started, sounding almost musical. “My exam results say otherwise—”

She shoved him for that.

When Marinette was booked for a booth at another venue, Adrien jumped at the chance to accompany her. It was on both of their days off—thankfully for him—and it was only a few hours drive from their homes.

He tried to get her to dress up ridiculously for the occasion, but she refused, calling it tacky and offensive.

Instead, she dressed nicely in her own way.

Adrien wouldn't stop taking pictures of her at her booth, though.

“I'm being supportive!” he exclaimed, snapping another picture and telling her to pose with her elbow on the table. “Now, give me a nice big smile.”

She stuck her tongue out childishly.

That picture made it onto his social media.

And like with most of the others, Gabriel sent him a text, saying it looked like they were having fun together.

She found it a little endearing how his father would privately comment on almost all the pictures. It was a lot better than Adrien being embarrassed about the public comments on each post, there for everyone to see.

If her parents did that to her, she wouldn't have been embarrassed at all.

Then again, she wasn't in a strained relationship with them.

As long as Adrien didn't run at the sight of his father's car, she counted it as a win.

Adrien made it onto her channel with a video of him choking on his drink from laughter.

“This is so unfair,” he stated, eyes watering as he tried to clear his throat. “I see why Luka hates you now.”

She grinned.

The channel wasn't booming in popularity, but a few of them did make it onto the trending page. She didn't try and understand it properly, nor did she want to expand her videos and delve into other things.

She kept them short, simple, and straight-to-the-point.

It was only a past-time, after all.

She did get a few offers through her business e-mail—asking her to collaborate with users, or there was one where she was asked to work at table at a birthday party to serve as entertainment—but she wanted to relax for a while, rather than promote her channel.

Besides, the pay for the birthday party wasn't worth the two hour drive.

She liked what she was doing.

Her life was _good_.

Luka continued to be a permanent fixture in her life, her relationship with Adrien was going strong, and she'd bonded with his friends, and somehow gotten his father to somewhat like her. All in all, it was going swimmingly compared to her previous year.

It wasn't that it had been bad—she'd been stuck in a routine, happy with what she'd had.

That changed when he'd come bursting into her store, and just kept coming back into her life.

She was really thankful for that.

Lila had sent her an unhappy selfie at her new job, so she guessed Lila was regretting that decision.

Marinette hadn't attended another dinner with Gabriel, but that wasn't because she was unwelcome. As successful as it had been the last time, she didn't want to intrude and be there as a buffer every time. The weeks following the dinner had been fine—with Adrien not being as annoyed at his father's name popping up on his phone—so she had hopes that, maybe, them meeting up wouldn't result in him being angry.

When he came back to hers after, he wasn't wound up, but that didn't mean he was overwhelmingly happy.

It was a starting point.

To her surprise, the next time she saw Gabriel, it wasn't scheduled.

Well, it was—but it wasn't with Adrien there.

Marinette was utterly baffled when she was called into the dentist's office, the very one she'd gone to before when she was terribly hungover, only to actually recognise the dentist there.

Before, he'd been a bit rude, clearly not interested in talking, and with her headache, she hadn't thought much about it.

Her voice came out suspiciously high. “I—Gabriel! Hi! I mean, Doctor Agreste? _Are_ you a doctor? I know there's some discourse around that, but I've never really cared to look into it—”

“Marinette,” he greeted, sounding a bit amused. “If you'd like to take a seat, we'll get you checked up.”

“Right, yes,” she stuttered out. “Okay, yeah.”

He didn't correct her use of the word yeah, but she wasn't his son.

The only way to describe the situation was strange.

As with last time, he didn't try to make small talk. He went about his work—telling her to open her mouth—and it was the assistant that spoke the most, asking how her day had been.

But with her head leaned back in the chair, able to see him as he looked into her mouth—it was so _weird_. It was the closest they'd been—other than their handshake—and she couldn't help but think that it was her boyfriend's father with his hands in her mouth.

It was a weird day.

“We'll see you in six months, then,” Gabriel said as she stood up from the chair, still bewildered by the situation. “However, I hope to see you before then with my son.”

“I—yeah,” was all she could blurt out, lost on what to say.

Gabriel's smile showed his teeth. “Excellent.”

“...Yeah.”

“Extend me greetings to Adrien, will you?” he requested, going as far as to open the door for her to leave. “I'd like to give him something.”

“Okay.” She swallowed. “I can do that.”

“Wonderful,” he said.

It was in her list of most embarrassing meetings.

Rather than texting Adrien about it, she waited until she was at his for dinner that night. He knew that she'd closed her store early that day because of the dentist, and she'd sent him a text saying that she had all her teeth still, so she doubted he thought that anything went wrong.

So, it was when she was hovering in the kitchen, waiting for him to suggest what she could do to help him cook that she said, “So, I saw your father today.”

He didn't pause while cutting the ingredients. “You did?”

“Yeah...” Marinette trailed off, reaching up and tucking some hair behind her ear. “He's—kind of my dentist? Yeah.”

“Kind of?” Adrien sounded amused.

“He's my dentist,” she corrected with a audible sigh. “That's what you're choosing to address? Really?”

He shrugged, not looking up from his work. “It's his job, right? I'm not really that surprised.”

“I was!” she exclaimed, still a bit horrified from how the meeting had been sprung on her.

Because, surely, Gabriel would've had a patient list and maybe realised that it was her—

If he even knew her surname, or had recognised her the first time that they'd met. Then again, he hadn't mentioned it at all at the dinner, so she was just jumping to conclusions.

“He was—nice,” she started, struggling to find the right words. “Well, as nicer than the first time, but I was really hungover, so that's not saying much.”

“You are a delight when you've got a headache,” he remarked.

If he didn't have a knife in his hand, she would've elbowed him. “I'm _always_ a delight to be around.”

“Always, babe,” he confirmed, voice shaking with laughter.

Being with Adrien felt natural.

There was barely any times where she didn't want to be around him.

That didn't mean that they were always together; space was needed at times, and she was never offended when he called off meeting up that day, saying he'd preferred to swap it to another time. And when she did the same with him, he reacted just as positively.

Communication was key.

That was why she told him, “Your father said he has something to give you.”

“Something?” he queried.

Marinette hummed in confirmation. “Yeah, he didn't say.”

“Of course he didn't,” Adrien muttered. “Any clue whatsoever?”

“Nope,” she replied. “But that was after I told him I'd say hi for you. So, hi.”

She could hear the smile in his voice. “Hello, Marinette.”

“You can pay me for my messaging service in food,” she stated, leaning against the countertop. “Feed me.”

“I'll think about it,” he replied, as though he wasn't tossing the ingredients in a frying pan. “If you're good, I might let you have some.”

She pretended to be offended. “I'm good.”

“Sounds fake,” he teased. “How can I ever believe you?”

“I'm always trustworthy,” she retorted.

He made a thoughtful noise. “Are you?”

“I warn you about the future, do I not?” she snottily replied. “Maybe I'll lie to you from now on—keep you on edge and waiting for it to happen.”

“That's a horrible prank,” Adrien reprimanded, turning around to point a spatula at her. “Stick to your wholeness channel—if you ever become a prank one, I'm leaving.”

She exclaimed, “But I need a boyfriend for those videos!”

“Exactly.” He grinned. “You don't need to change.”

“Fine,” she gave in. “But only if you text your father back to say hi.”

He looked a bit bewildered at that. “...And why would I do that?”

“Because I felt vaguely threatened today,” she stated. “He had tools in my mouth, Adrien. If I go back there and he wants to inflict pain on me, it'll be all your fault.”

He wrinkled his nose. “He wouldn't torture you.”

“It felt pretty close to it!”

“Fine.” He passed the spatula over to her. “Make sure not to burn something while I grab my phone, yeah?”

She saluted. “You can trust me.”

“I'm sure,” he replied, dubious.

And when he returned a few minutes later—certainly longer than it took to send a message—he wasn't frowning and looking agitated. If anything, he didn't seem bothered in the slightest.

“He said it was nice to see you today.”

“Well,” Marinette started, using the spatula to point at him in return. “I am a delight.”

Adrien looked like he was holding back laughter. “Right.”

“At this rate, I'm going to leave you for your father,” she said, haughtily raising her chin up. “He appreciates me.”

Adrien patted her head. “You'll be a wonderful stepmother.”

The next time he saw his father, he was given his mother's favourite necklace.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://xiueryn.tumblr.com/) ♥( *ˊᵕˋ)


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